birds

always has been

I stand above this town at dusk, green
brick to my back. birds race around in
front
of me; they circle together in patterned
ease, then join the rest on the
church’s roof just across the
street.

I know that I am someone’s son, someone’s
brother, someone’s uncle but I sometimes
wish that I were none
of these. wish that I was completely
alone, and this thought takes a
blade to any goodness that
I still may possess.

I stand here, green brick to
my back, watching these birds
charm in pack with patterned
oneness. then they join the rest
on
the roof just across the
street because this
is how
it always has been.

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