Look, child, and you can see
the moon's disc stuck halfway through
the hidden slit in the night sky.
It is told that there, Fisher
climbed his ladder of arrows
and entered the heavens
where the cloud folk dwelled.
See the rainbow haze that
leaks through the crack?
It is a remnant of the illicit beauty
that has since been freed
for all of us below to share.
And there, beside the stained clouds,
there is the constellation Fisher,
now suspended in the night sky,
forever, with an arrow through his tail.
Remember, child, the bird-souls
of men and women and children like yourself,
all trapped in cages and swinging from the
spreading oak tree whose roots
grew in the clouds above.
when their cage doors opened,
they flew down through that very same crack--
there, where the half-moon is--
and there where they landed, they were humans
once more.
These humans with the bird-souls,
they are your ancestors, your kin;
They grew with the land you live in,
your first land, your homeland.
So when you look outside your window
before you go to sleep,
I hope you will remember
that you are descended from those
with the souls of birds,
and will soar through the star filled sky
with the wild heron and the brown thrush
in your dreams tonight.
the moon's disc stuck halfway through
the hidden slit in the night sky.
It is told that there, Fisher
climbed his ladder of arrows
and entered the heavens
where the cloud folk dwelled.
See the rainbow haze that
leaks through the crack?
It is a remnant of the illicit beauty
that has since been freed
for all of us below to share.
And there, beside the stained clouds,
there is the constellation Fisher,
now suspended in the night sky,
forever, with an arrow through his tail.
Remember, child, the bird-souls
of men and women and children like yourself,
all trapped in cages and swinging from the
spreading oak tree whose roots
grew in the clouds above.
when their cage doors opened,
they flew down through that very same crack--
there, where the half-moon is--
and there where they landed, they were humans
once more.
These humans with the bird-souls,
they are your ancestors, your kin;
They grew with the land you live in,
your first land, your homeland.
So when you look outside your window
before you go to sleep,
I hope you will remember
that you are descended from those
with the souls of birds,
and will soar through the star filled sky
with the wild heron and the brown thrush
in your dreams tonight.
Author notes
I, Rhodd, hereby allow Mackerth to use my poem for the intended purpose.
Tell the little boy that I hope he gets well and lives a happy life. One of my friends who's my age (eight years old) died of an aneurysm two months ago. I didn't know what this boy would like, so I just wrote my version of one of my favorite stories.
Sorry it's freewrite, but I'm not good at rhyming, cause it always sounds forced.
A contest entry
- Sick Young Boy Needs a Poem! by mackereth.
2500 points, ended March 31, 2008, 41 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Every poem I have read in this contest is absolutely priceless and this one is no exception! A wonderful job you did on this and it will bring smiles to this little fellow for sure! God bless and best wishes,
Frogz~
-
First of all i would like to thank you for entering my contest. Just by doing so, you are giving hope to everyone that this has affected. Wow, thats all i can say about this poem. It blows my mind! I know i said i dont like freewrite, but wow, im speechless, not many writers can do that to me. What an amazing poem! Thanks again for the amazing entry, and good luck in the contest!


