hush little baby, don't say a word, mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
i imagine that i would have called you 'birdy'.
that your eyes would have been as blue and as light as feathers.
that your laugh would have been a lot like a song, and your cry like a whistle.
and that name, would be like a prophecy,
and sheet music of the songs that you would sing to your daughters,
as each mother before you.
my mother.
sang me that lullaby every night,
as if each note was a promise
for a perfect daughter,
as if she knew what i would name you,
and that you would be worth more than diamond rings.
were what tempted her.
my mother was alot like a crow,
she had no feathers to speak of,
but claws and hair a jet black shade of mystery,
so i shouldn't have been surprised
when she left the nest,
but in a beak full of her regret
i realized that i can't teach a fledgling to fly,
if i am still a chick,
and my body went from being aviaric
to empty and barren,
because a cull was more appealing
than a little labor and finding worms.
i never thought i'd end up being a murderer.
but fear reset our future,
i was afraid of the possibilities
that maybe, you wouldn't be special to anyone other than your mother,
maybe you would bring me things other than happiness,
and maybe, your song wouldn't be one to change the world.
like maybe you wouldn't take the form of a dove in the middle of a world war.
too afraid of my mothers promises being broken.
so i found my self,
in a war zone,
with fingers curled beneath my stomach like claws,
holding a birdhouse of fate and an incubator of fear.
my little bird, you would never know what hit you,
whether sticks and stones, a vacuum or a syringe.
the memory often makes me cringe,
like three days after
when i learned it is a sin to kill a mocking bird,
and in a jail cell of chalkboards and desks,
i realized just what i had committed.
so,i am sorry for that first fleeting moment of thought
of following poor instinct
of me thinking that if i pinned your wings down
i'd be able to fly.
birdy, i wish that i could say i would take it back,
if i was given the chance,
quick as flight.
but i am clearly too selfish to raise a child,
and try as i might,
i would always have been too afraid
of you falling far from the nest to even let you try.
always would have been too close to filling up your bones
to keep you grounded
just so you couldn't chase after me,
when i decided to leave.
my mothers genetics have predisposed me to believe,
that i will be a terrible hen,
but now, light as a bird, my words surely have little meaning,
but i feel the need to assure you,
that i was only protecting you from myself
need to assure you
that death will be a better mother, birdy,
she won't ever leave you.
and you will never leave my mind,
no matter how many months you have been left behind,
your name will be heard in every breath i exhale,
like a breeze.
i will always remember the feeling of your wings pressed against my spine
i was so prepared to hear you breathing,
i pictured you singing,
i felt like it was real.
but my mother's lift off taught me that nothing goes as planned
so i ran.
straight into my guilt
and into the safe house
of the consequences of what happens
if that mocking bird don't sing.
