Little Bird

by m. e. roach

 

packed dirt

dusty feet, small and large

so much noise

chaos

 

I’m scared

inside my belly something gnaws, gnaws, gnaws

a great black monster

called hunger

 

my sister’s eyes are even larger-

my mother and father have no time-

and I don’t know why,

why this is my world

 

“Dabchick”- my mother calls me

“Little bird.”

but I am not like the little bird

If I were, I would fly, fly fly high away

and carry my family

to a place where there are no black monsters

no scurrying feet

no one pushing me aside.

 

Days drag by.

The little bird bows her head

in defeat.

 

And then it comes-

the letter that makes her mother straighten her back-

the help that lifts her father’s shoulders-

the light for her sister’s eyes-

a whisper of a Man who saves.

 

Inside her tiny chest, there is a flutter-

a flutter like tiny wings.

 

 

 

Hope for the Children- my Little Bird.

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