Dead Bird

 My duty is to the earth, 

To love and care for it until my dying day

The worms get hungry too

I traverse deeply into the woods 

I bring nothing with me but my shovel 

I strip naked and begin to dig 

A grave in which to lay rest this creature 

with whom I share ancestry 

This time it is a bird. 

It is quite small in size, 

a little larger than a sparrow

Brown wings and tail feathers 

Light, fluffy grey everywhere else 

With a signature black speckled chest 

The grave is not deep, only a few inches

It's purpose is not to deprive the flies 

But to provide a sense of dignity 

I feel such a pretty thing deserves dignity

I bow my head and say a prayer of gratitude 

As I mummer the words 

my heart turns bitter

"Thank you for your life"

I lift my eyes to the blackened skies 

The rain is falling lighter now

I allow despair to overwhelm me 

Tears arrive as I cry out silently 

This is the way of things

And this is my useless fight against reality 

My hands and knees are now in the dirt 

The shovel makes a little 'plop' sound beside me 

My mind is on that same nothingness 

That same dark abyss that has always surrounded me 

The meaninglessness has a name 

But I can't remember it

Not for the life of me

When at length, I rose again to my feet,

I was weary. 

To be human is to detest your own nature 

To question your own existence 

To be born with the need to accept reality 

But with that same ironic inability