01 September 2008

I am Sparrow, by Carol Knowles

I am sparrow. I live in the shadows, find my roost in the eaves of a house not my own.
I am sparrow, catching the sun, absorbing the brown and orange colors of my feathers, keeping me warm. Rays of gold surround me.
I am the color of autumn, remnant of the summer, in between new life and death. My song brings news of a life to come, a cold life, a bare life, and a life on the run.

I am sparrow, I hold life and death together with my song.
On my back are the sun and the sky, my shell, my soul, my home.
I am living, I am alive, I remember, I burn with a flame, brown, green and gold.

Only those in the autumn can hear my song, anthem to autumn, an anthem to a life long gone, not lost, but changed. Not lost, but given, shed, as I shed my feathers. I sing of autumn, of death, a death that does not disappear, but brings wonder and warmth to those who do not fight. My death is not grey, it is gold and brown and red, like autumn. I carry it as a cross, as a shell: shell of the sky, shell of the sun, shell of the soul of the meek, who are blessed by a non-descript God. A death not to be feared, but sought for its warmth, a soul, a shell, a song.

How does death feel?
For those who are not afraid, it is warm – warm as the orange gold and red of autumn. But for those who are afraid, winter comes. They do not know they have chased autumn away - autumn that contains a warm death. They are left with winter, fear, and cold naked fear of life in their hearts. For life is the shell of fear, and this fear is the winter of the soul.

And so, what happens when we die?
When we die, our spirits fly away, like a bird escaped from a cage, the cage of life.

I am the sparrow. I am both birth and death. I am autumn. I carry my home in a shell.

by Carol D. Knowles, 2003

No comments: