Photo by Cassie Burke on Unsplash

Grackle Heart

Somewhere between my throat
and sit bones
there are questions
fluttering, beating
like jewelled black wings.

When did my ribs become a cage?
When did I swallow the key?
Where’s the lock? What are the answers?

It’s all on the tip of my tongue
but I can’t find my voice either.

Not today.

Every enchantment
I’ve come to count on –
roosting grackles,
groves of alder,
candlemoonfire,
the light in my own eyes
at sun rise & set,
magentapurpleindigo skies,
that song, all the songs

are all locked up here
in this cave of bone
and all that’s left to do now
is wonder
when I’ll hear the door open,
feel that rusty hinge sing
in my ears,

wonder when
if ever,
I will get to
fly home
at last.

Effy Bird Wild
25/10/20

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