Yesterday, while walking across the street,

I found a baby bird who couldn’t find its wings.

In an attempt to save its precious little life,

I took off my cardigan, picked it up, &began to wonder why it couldn’t fly.

Got back to my place and sat it on the floor,

thinking it’d discover its wings

but it just wandered some more. 

I googled a bit to see what I should do

all the while searching my own pantry for typical bird food. 

I even gave it a name during my quest for bird knowledge, 

internet search told me that this type was a male, so, I named him Johnny. 

Finding nothing else useful on the world wide web, 

I called the shelter for some help. 

After relaying my heroic story to the anxious secretary,

She told me she’d be right back…she had to consult the veterinarian.

Returning to the line

w/what I could hear as tears in her eyes

She said, “You’ve done too much. You’ve got to take him back outside.”

“I’m sorry?”, I said—puzzled, “I don’t quite understand you.”

“I did a good thing…

didn’t I?  I rescued a living being.”

Then she shocked my supreme ego

Saying, “Sweetheart, you cannot teach that baby bird to fly…

He and you are not of the same kind.”

So, I took the baby bird back to where I’d discovered him

With hopes that his mother would return to him and mother him.

Walking home I realized how many lives I’ve tried to save.

How many life jackets I’ve thrown to amateur swimmers drowning in life’s waves.

How many times I’ve accepted broken pieces from broken people

How many times that my heroin mentality often left me torn and utterly speechless. 

That there have been many times I’ve attempted to sew wings onto a boy

in a desperate attempt to turn him into the man…the eagle that I need.

When instead, I should’ve been content with just letting nature be. 

So, the next time I find a baby bird that cannot fly,

I’ll leave him with some bread crumbs & the peace sign. 

-Sarabi