Tensions that fly into the back of my brain wing their way down to my heart and my belly
where the small brown birds have built their nests. Nests built from the scattered debris of a
day, or maybe a week or even longer. Removing the little flock of birds seems cruel when
they’ve become so comfortable.
But they are messy ~ dropping their feathers and never
cleaning out their nests. I'm sorry to see
them go because they are good company,
even if they can't sing. So with each breath,
one of them flies away till I am left empty.
Then I'll open the space to robins and canaries
and interview them for their songs.
“I feel empty, not because of sadness, but because
of relief, all the tension flowing out of me.”
~ Veronica Roth, novelist
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