C R Y
One
These two days I’ve kept hearing the bird sing. The singing is penetrating - - - how many bird songs have I heard in my life now? And how many can I remember? - - - but this one, by the bird perching on the tree top and singing unapologetically, I pause and listen and cannot forget! I can recognize it immediately and I am expecting to hear it sing whenever I pass by. Upon the singing, even a heated day suddenly has the cool of romanticism.
Two
The bird has not been around since yesterday afternoon. The day is back to ordinary again - - - dusty and noisy and exhausted - - - from its absence. What have I heard from the bird’s singing then? I said it’s a Song yesterday. That’s not really what I meant. I labeled it a song based on something I was trying to stay away from, or, the tendency to romanticize. What I heard indeed is a CRY! The Cry made me tremble. Irresistible. I looked upward in its direction and I wanted to hear more, and I wanted to cry with the Cry, uncontrollably.
The cry touches a Soul, from that of a bird to mine, or
From that of a Nobody
To that of another
Nobody.
:2012
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