The Robin
She cradled the injured Robin in her small hand....it fearfully chirped as she carefully walked back to the house with the nest in her other hand.
It had cried half the morning as she watched it from the porch.
Her eyes glistened with sadness as she watched frantic parents abandon the baby and fly away.
This was the moment she silently waited for...knowing it would come, but hoping it would not.
She carried him into her darkened room and sat the nest upon her desk. Brittle, half broken from the fall, the nest would never do.
She frowned.
Opening the desk with one hand, she pulled a scrap of silk, a remnant of her mother's worn out shirt, from the drawer. Then gently, she tucked the soft piece of cloth into the crumbling nest.
Still holding the precious child, she tried to calm him as he continued to chirp frailly.
His head, half cut off from his body, the girl knew he had perhaps a day. In her eyes, that day was an opportunity to try. She knew the chance of saving him was slim. But, even if she couldn't, this day would be spent making him as comfortable as possible.
The baby Robin gurgled from the wound as she transferred him to his new home...his final home.
She rested his fragile head against a puffier piece of the silk and then left his side to quickly get an eye dropper and a cup of water.
Not too warm, not too cool.
Then she raced back down the stairs to her basement room taking two stairs at a time.
He was still alive.
No longer chirping and afraid of the God that had reached down from the sky and plucked him off the ground. He watched her with a half cracked eye in wonderment.
The beautifully odd creature began to sing. She sang to him in a curious non melodic way but all the same beautiful. The Robin closed his eyes, unable to find the strength to keep them open.
And the girl sang....
Waiting at the Robin's side for him to awaken, and giving him tiny drops of water to soothe his dry, cracked mouth.
Then she sang on....praying to God for the Robin's mercy.
But God did not answer, and time rolled on.
The bird saw God sing and he knew it meant he was dying as it drifted in an out of consciousness throughout the day. But the rest and water did help ease the pain.
The Robin woke up with more energy and the girl hoped this would mean his life had been spared.
She fed him a tiny drop of water as it watched her, now unafraid.
Then she raced back up the stairs and ran out the front porch with a tiny spade in her hand.
Worms...
She plucked them from the upturned earth and placed them in the spade. Then on a rock, crushed their bodies into a mush.
Sickened by the sight, she begged the worms to forgive her. Then she took the mush and placed them on a large spoon.
It was then she heard it.
From her heart, or her mind...perhaps her soul...she heard the tiny bird cry out to her very loudly from seemingly above her head.
She ran back to her room and found the bird lay dead upon the silk. Beak tucked into his chest unmoving.
With a great heave of emotion she sat upon the floor and cried. Wiping the tears she carried the nest to the porch wanting to say goodbye.
She cradled the injured Robin in her small hand....it fearfully chirped as she carefully walked back to the house with the nest in her other hand.
It had cried half the morning as she watched it from the porch.
Her eyes glistened with sadness as she watched frantic parents abandon the baby and fly away.
This was the moment she silently waited for...knowing it would come, but hoping it would not.
She carried him into her darkened room and sat the nest upon her desk. Brittle, half broken from the fall, the nest would never do.
She frowned.
Opening the desk with one hand, she pulled a scrap of silk, a remnant of her mother's worn out shirt, from the drawer. Then gently, she tucked the soft piece of cloth into the crumbling nest.
Still holding the precious child, she tried to calm him as he continued to chirp frailly.
His head, half cut off from his body, the girl knew he had perhaps a day. In her eyes, that day was an opportunity to try. She knew the chance of saving him was slim. But, even if she couldn't, this day would be spent making him as comfortable as possible.
The baby Robin gurgled from the wound as she transferred him to his new home...his final home.
She rested his fragile head against a puffier piece of the silk and then left his side to quickly get an eye dropper and a cup of water.
Not too warm, not too cool.
Then she raced back down the stairs to her basement room taking two stairs at a time.
He was still alive.
No longer chirping and afraid of the God that had reached down from the sky and plucked him off the ground. He watched her with a half cracked eye in wonderment.
The beautifully odd creature began to sing. She sang to him in a curious non melodic way but all the same beautiful. The Robin closed his eyes, unable to find the strength to keep them open.
And the girl sang....
Waiting at the Robin's side for him to awaken, and giving him tiny drops of water to soothe his dry, cracked mouth.
Then she sang on....praying to God for the Robin's mercy.
But God did not answer, and time rolled on.
The bird saw God sing and he knew it meant he was dying as it drifted in an out of consciousness throughout the day. But the rest and water did help ease the pain.
The Robin woke up with more energy and the girl hoped this would mean his life had been spared.
She fed him a tiny drop of water as it watched her, now unafraid.
Then she raced back up the stairs and ran out the front porch with a tiny spade in her hand.
Worms...
She plucked them from the upturned earth and placed them in the spade. Then on a rock, crushed their bodies into a mush.
Sickened by the sight, she begged the worms to forgive her. Then she took the mush and placed them on a large spoon.
It was then she heard it.
From her heart, or her mind...perhaps her soul...she heard the tiny bird cry out to her very loudly from seemingly above her head.
She ran back to her room and found the bird lay dead upon the silk. Beak tucked into his chest unmoving.
With a great heave of emotion she sat upon the floor and cried. Wiping the tears she carried the nest to the porch wanting to say goodbye.
And the girl sang....
The song floated upwards between the sunlit leaves...it was then she realized...
That there could have been no way to hear the bird, over the hulking central air, lawn mowers, and highway...calling her from the depths of the far off basement in her room, she wiped the tears and stood up.
The robin's call to her was a gift.
A sign post on the path of her life to let her know this was the way.
The path to Beloved.
That one would stop their clock and give to another...knowing it would simply ease that suffering. That it could never change the future.
This most blessed moment.
When the soul gives, without ever hoping for a return...acting merely out of compassion.
When the soul gives, without ever hoping for a return...acting merely out of compassion.
The girl still hopes...loves, sings, and prays.
Seeking those broken angels...
All the while knowing....
That to Beloved, she is that very same broken bird...
Singing up to Him from the vast beautiful earth, as He watches over her in the heavens above.
As He watches over us all...
Hari Om Namah Shivaya
I wrote this about my last lil bird, he was one of dozens over my childhood. Today I take the memory out of my pocket and send it back out into the universe.
As I began to write this story a few years ago, something very strange happened to me. Suddenly the viewpoint changed to that of my Robin. Reading it now, I suppose I wouldn't have written it any other way...as it gave him a voice, one which in my childhood I could not hear nor understand.
From this space, seeing Beloved in every single Beloved Eye...it was only then I did hear his voice and the full story.
Hari Om Beloved<3
