Birds of Hallow Throat

Holding on to birds that want to fly

No hope of strength enough

Words perched on silver tongues

Birds caught; wings open, frozen


Yearning to relinquish the grey that surrounds

Not far enough away from

The black of distant past


In the middle of a throat

They flap, they flock—it chokes

Birds aiming to the smallest light

Yet they are caught inside a throat


Feathers seep through ruby lips

As trapped and waiting birds cry

Half frozen, yearnings thawing

No secrets fly by sun


Not till the dawn of twilight

Do wings thaw

Not till the darkness of the night

Do birds know how to fly


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