A Bird Flew Away

exhausted, I hobbled towards a tree

that smelled strangely 

like my grandma's welcoming arms.

into her arms, i felt relaxed.

a brown-white feathered bird perched

on my slumped shoulder

mistaking me 

for an out-sprouted branch.

i stood still savoring the smell

of the bird on the lap of my grandma.

the bird stirred, fluttering its wings against my ear.

i quivered inadvertently

and looked at the bird at my periphery.

i saw it in its eyes.

and it was very familiar.

i've lost people, all my life,

knowing it well before the goodbye was said

i've lost people, all my life,

seeing it well in their eyes.

and i lost a bird, again,

seeing the final goodbye edging its eyes.

are humans really repulsive?

do we hate each other more than we admit?

why do we leave long before we do physically?

why is living a human very complicated?

i wished i were a tree

smelling like a welcoming grandmother.

i wished i were a bird

flitting as far away from humans

and into the arms of a forest.

i wished i were an endangered nonhuman

thriving away from this anthropocentric life.

i wished i were anything 

but a hateful human.

i wished, as the bird flew away 

and away from me, a hateful human.

- Gayathri Tamilselvan

(April 01)