You will miss me, I know. I know everything will turn in your stomach; the food you ate, your guts, and your recently fallen heart. You must fly too, mother. You and I are symbolic in character; we stay searching for peace in our loud and chaotic surroundings. I have left without you, for we are not to stay joined forever, as you know. You already know, it is best to bless others during separate journeys. That day, as you held me in the towel, I felt your deep attachment and connection. You always told me, mother, that attachment is unhealthy. How could you possibly have become attached to me?
Oh, what could I do, without you? You were not here for me many days and you know this. I know you know this, mother. I missed you but I know you were hurting, too. I longed for you, but I know you longed for me somewhere too. You could not stand my pain and I wanted to nuzzle with you, hoping that would make you feel better. I know, though, that you are different. After all, I have felt your heart beating and your tears falling onto my fur during your painful moments. What could I do, mother? Just as you choose to fight alone, I chose to fight alone.
Save me. I am still here, though you have left, perhaps. Have you left me, mother? I still stay here, learning to survive without you. You have been here, too, waiting for them to come back from the other side. You must know what this feels like; I am becoming used to this but my head turns for you. Maybe, you will extend your palm my way and tell me to “step up”. Maybe, you will yell at me and at the same time, restrict anyone else from doing so. I stay here, under this set of stairs, remembering your alert face. Your eyes widened as they snatched the pea from under my beak. You lay on the floor with an expression of pure serenity as I nested in your growing hair.
I am not the only one to feel this way; we have laid together in silence and thought about this. My heart may be very small but it was beating at your pace, mother. This was not a beautiful place, if you were not smiling. If you were not smiling, we were not together. We were not together and I remained in the cage. Simply existing was manageable because I received food and water from your hands but the touch of your skin and giggle of your voice seemed miles away from my small eyes- you were locked in that room, in the corner. I tucked one foot under my skin for hours, nestling and waiting for you to come outside. Every morning, I tweeted aloud hoping you would hear my voice like an alarm clock and hold me close to your chest. This place was not home anymore, mother. You fed me everyday, though, and I left home to gift you better days.
My sanity | My scent | My sound | My reflection
Always sending you my Love, Yadu.