#59: Back to the Nest (Part 2)

This poor bird with it's broken wing. The bird's pain may be physical, but her despair is for her babies. Her determination and persistence is not to find relief, but to find home, to find her family. She knows that if she can't make it home, her baby birds will not survive. Sometimes, reality is grim, and the stakes are high. I admire this birds guts.

Here is part 2. Next week is the conclusion. Will she find her way home?

Bird with Broken Wing by Barbara Banthien

Persistent and determined

A glare glazed across her eyes

This moment of great trial

Would not become her own demise

She plucked some worms out from the mud 

With her weary beaten beak

The storm had softened up the ground

Making the worms easy to seek

She then marched aimlessly

Hoping to find her nest

Sadly she was lost 

This had become a hopeless quest

As tears streamed down her cheek

It wasn't from the pain,

It was from the thought that she 

Would never be home again
Her babies were her pride and joy

She loved them oh so much

But they would have to carry on,

Without a mothers touch.

Not a promising scenario

They likely won’t survive

Mama chose to keep on searching

Her motherly sense of pride

Wandering for hours

Homes still not in sight

The overbearing pain

Now adding to her plight

Alas her tank on empty

Her body exhausted and weak

She fell to the ground with nothing left

Survival looking bleak

#58: Back to the Nest (Part 1)

Last year, while visiting northern California to see my brothers family, and visit some old friends from college, I wrote a couple poems. The first was one I posted a couple weeks ago called "Monsters in the Night" and was a pretty quick write. The other one I wrote was a struggle. Though most of it was written while up in Northern California, I couldn't think of how to finish the poem. 

I was spending the day visiting Chris Tan whom I had the chance to disciple while working with Epic at UC Davis, and Drew Tan, who I had the privilege of leading a Bible Study with in Epic. These are two very close friends who I admire greatly. 

We met up in San Francisco for lunch and I was telling them about this poem I was writing about a mother bird who leaves her nest to go get worms. The bird unfortunately crashes while hunting for worms and can no longer fly. I was about 3/4 done with the poem, but still had no ending. As Chris, Drew and myself were talking about the possible themes that could come from the poem, they gave me a great idea on how to finish it. Their idea blew my mind it was so good. It completely changed the tone of the poem in a brilliant way. The ending was now in my head thanks to Drew and Chris, but I couldn't find the right words to use. It was a severe case of writers block. Eventually I found the words but I find it's a bit unrefined. 

Anyways, since its kind of long, I broke it down in to three parts. Here is part one. 

Mama bird she wakes up 

Before the rising sun

She has food to find 

So much to be done

Her chicklets resting calmly 

Soon will need to eat

To feed her babies daily 

Is not an easy feat

She goes out to the river

Her mind is on the hunt

She needs to raise her babies

Even the little runt

Soaring through the air 

She hits a gust of wind

It blows her off her course

Into a tailspin

Hopelessly she’s flapping 

She hit a Douglas fir

The ground approaching fast

It must have been a blur

Left now bruised and bleeding 

With a broken wing as well

She had no idea

To how far she truly fell.

She dusted herself clean

And tried to fly around

But the moment she took off

She fell back towards the ground

Her left wing would flap frantically 

But the right one wouldn't move

Nature dealt a crushing blow

Of which cruelty approved

Mama bird still had no food 

And she no longer could fly

Could she reach her baby birds 

Or would this be her last goodbye?

#57: The Weight of His Glory

1 John 4:8 - Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

This verse if worth pondering on Valentines day. I would think that anything that is glorious and beautiful could not exist if love did not exist.

The weight of His glory, comparable only to the measure of His splendor

To the far reaching grasp of His grace, to the knowledge of His endless wonder

For the sweetness of honey cannot compare

To the sweetness of mercy that rescues from despair

For the depths of my sin leads my soul to decay

And the filth in my heart leads me far from His ways

But the Cross brings forth an everlasting light

That purifies my soul so I am holy in His sight

As His light illuminates all the things I have ignored

There is no hiding my iniquities, iniquities he abhors

But through forgiveness I can wash all that I have stained

But not by my own doing, but by the Lord’s infinite strength.

#56: Monsters in the Night

There is a quiet calm in the stillness of the night

An eerie air to breath, creates a certain fright

The kids are tucked away, snuggled in their bed

But the parents wide awake, a foreboding sense of dread

Pajamas were their armor, with pillows as their shield

They grabbed all their weapons, their house a battlefield

Trampling through the hallway, monsters coming round

Mom and dad are waiting, ready to knock the baddies down

First came the water monster, making dry beds to turn to wet

They are tricky ones to stop, unless you have a special net

Armed with a bag of sponges, to sop the monster up

They soaked him up real good, and trapped him in a cup

Then came the noisy monster, amplifying the night sound

He made it seem like raccoon's, were all rummaging around

To defeat him meant that silence, would be the order of the hour

Ear plugs along with ear muffs, proved to be a mighty power

Then came the pitch dark monster, impossible to see

Scaring children senseless, not knowing where he’d be

The darkness is combated, by a teeny bit of light

It let the children see around in the middle of the night

Then came the bright light monster, who seemed brighter than the sun

Darkness was the only option for this battle to be won

There is only one way known, to stop this bright charade

They’d cover up the monster, with a yellowish lampshade

Lastly came the nightmare monster, invading children’s dreams

He would creep in late at night, scaring the precious little things

There is no stopping him for this monster is a ghost

The parents here are helpless I guess the kiddies then are toast

But thankfully when this monster comes, it isn't very strong

Because in the waking world, this monster does not belong.

And if the children wake, with sleepless eyeballs red

They know they can always jump in to mommy and daddy’s bed