The Bird

art by Ainara Del Valle Pérez-Solero

Not much happened when she tied the first knot. He made a single knot on her finger with fishing line and another knot on his finger. She stared into with his grey blue eyes and said let’s explore the world together. Life was a complicated mystery she couldn’t wait to experience. She gave the string a small tug and they set off.

On foot they walked and met lots of wonderful people. The people would ask about the string. She explained they were going to see the world and she offered them a string so they could come along. The string was always different, rope, yarn, even floss they used whatever they could find.

As the years went on they had a beautiful tapestry of people. As the string rustled she thought of all of the memories, laughs, conversations she had along the way. Hundred of strings all walking together, sharing life together.

The strings got tangled at times, with so many people going in different directions. They decided that they should all make decisions together. So they could always stay together.

The strings would sometimes ware so they would tie the string a little tighter, a little closer. They married, had children. As the children learned to walk, they too would get a string. It began to be too difficult for everyone to move together in such a large group so they settled in one area. Built houses close together, to make sure the string was in tact.

One night she spooled some thread out as far as it would take her and laid on the grass staring at the vast starry night. A flicker of a wing caught her eye and she found herself mesmerized by a beautiful bird with wings like a kaleidoscope of colors with little glints of silver that shone like diamonds in the dark night.

The bird landed next to her and she scrambled to sit.

Hello, she said

Hello to you, said the bird. I have been flying all night and I was just hoping to rest for the night.

Sure, you are welcome to rest in our village.

She stayed up all night with the bird and he told her of his journeys. He spoke of the fresh taste of sushi in the daybreak in Japan, the sweet smell of sweat in India. The way the sunflowers blanket the hills of Italy. The delicious sound of crisp wit in London. She listened intently and asked the bird where his next adventure would take him.

He said he was headed to Australia to explore the Great Barrier reef.

The dawn started to break and the bird said he better be on his way to catch the westward wind.

You should come, said the bird
Yes, I would love that, she said

As she stood she felt a tug that knocked her back. As she turned she saw hundred of eyes baring into her in fear. The whites of thousands of knuckles clinging to her string.

Where are you going? They cried
You can't leave us! They cried
We can't lose you! They cried

Surprised she said she was not going to be gone forever. She just wanted to see the world beyond the village. She had always wanted to travel…

What about us! they cried

She looked back at them. Her people, her family. She saw the fear in their eyes, the sadness in their stare.

I'm sorry Bird. I am going to stay.

And the bird flew off. The sunlight hit the flecks of silver in his wing. As she rose her hand to wave goodbye the force of the string cut her skin, and she began to bleed.

My Favorite Tree

There was a tree that grew in the shade
Not suffering there
Just growing- happy even

Not leaning towards the sunny spot
or towards the safety of the forest

This tree had no plan
Just to grow into a happy old tree
I love this happy tree
as is

But sometimes it's cold
I want the tree to decide
to grow towards the light

so that one day
I can sit in the shade, happy too

About Failure

Every time I go back
I see her

Sunken eyes
as if hope weighed them
so heavily
they started retreating

Stooping now
just enough
her view blocked
by a chain link fence

A nervous woman
always doing, just enough
saying, just enough
never more

Each time she tries to leave with me

Each time she gets a mile closer

She says:
to be more is to be wrong
to want more is to be selfish

If she succeeds
I will be just enough
-never more

Planned, sorta

A small spark
in the primordial soup

grows a little girl
from what people did

not what they should do
regardless

she is a name, well considered
a life, vaguely premeditated

hopefully not a cure
for nomadic ambitions

yes, loved
of course
but a band-aid plan has holes

Birds

2 birds
admittedly a little late

escape
the V formation

2 birds
break off on their own

go undetected
and in an instant

get cropped to bits
in separate engines

2 birds
died today

and made an infinite city
pause

2 birds died
so that they could be free

and an infinite people
for an instant

became one
admittedly a little late

Alan

Each brick he placed made him stronger
a fortress he built around himself

But the bricks scrapped his skin
and slowly chipped him away

the pain made him mean
but happy, stronger

the walls got so high
till he could not see

he knocked others down
often by accident

often because he could
safe in his brick skin

one day
in an instant

all of the brick dissolved
leaving a scabbed shadow

in the middle of a fortress
of stares from those with bruises

26 yrs old

As the clock strikes
the popping starts

pop, pop, one by one
the fingers plop into the soup

starting with the right hand
and then the left

finishing with just one finger
that one goes last

the blood drips freely
smiling girls

flitting around
flashing their bloodied hands

a lovely mix of fingers and lace
boiling feverishly

up pops a bubble
reflecting faces of the unknown

the sound of "Shout" blares
as the girls throw their hands up

they notice a solitary finger
and I hope that makes them think

not, peonies or lillies?
but, did I make the right choice?