Many birds entered his house.

Occasionally few at a time.

Some flew out the window,

some through the door.

They all left feathers behind.

He never questioned the leavers.

It was the takers he didn’t believe.

As twisted as he was,

they had a diabolical plan to achieve.

Sometimes it was long sweaty sleepless nights,

with a bird in his cage;

Sometimes it was the smack of the cold irony,

he woke up to in the morning.

Pages of the journal he ripped out

gave him the nastiest papercuts on his feet,

He wouldnt throw them out

and accept the defeat.

Perhaps it was time to close the

windows and the doors,

stop the birds from coming in

yet still allow the light from the

glowing cardinal..

Marc Huppler and Eugenie Khoury


One response

  1. If I had a nickel for every time I came here! Amazing post.

    May 29, 2010 at 8:17 am

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