Flying over peaceful meadows,
Lonely bird was left behind.
Desperate to catch the others,
Every breath is petrified.
Broken wing and broken spirit,
Fighting to catch up to them,
Lonely swallow fights each moment
To stay flying in the air.
Yet the earth sends endless whispers,
Calling it to stop and rest.
Broken wing receives the calling,
As the heart pounds in the chest.
Yet the spirit fights to gather
All the ounce of strength it has,
Not wanting to stop—each second
Brings it closer to its kind.
Falling, rising, wing and spirit
Fight to have complete control.
On the tired, breathless swallow
Cruel defeat then takes its toll.
And, accepting autumn, winter,
The bird stops and rests at last,
Wounded, lonesome and discouraged,
With its mind caught in the past.
While the flock will have a future,
It will die here all alone,
On the long-forgotten meadows…
Oh, the pitiful, poor soul…
Waiting in the quiet meadows,
It then hears the howling winds.
Won’t be long now, winter’s near,
It shall meet eternal spring…
– Patricia
Da Capo al Poetry 