People always react with incredulity when I tell them Magpies are my favorite bird. They think them common, bucolic (derogatory) and simple in their apparent monochromacy. Look again, look past the binary of black and white with me! Their beauty, cheekyness and loudness has fueled my will to keep loving countless times. They come to the rescue of my heart-mind once more, at a time when we wish to be rocked to sleep by old lullabies but the modern world we’ve built demands us to stay awake, and live in complex emotions and thoughts. This is a stream of conscience spell in three coexisting voices:
that of an old nursery rhyme ;
that of a modern heart, broken open by pain and beauty
;
and that of a shadow that speaks seldomly but deeply.
One is for sorrow,
for today I see no iridiscence adorning magpies, only the darkness…
Two for joy,
of furious dances on dreamt worlds…
Three for a girl,
digging herself from under the violent rubble of hate and collective acquiescence…
Four for a boy,
who lost his arm and his hope to bombs of inhumanity…
Five for silver,
flowing through our arteries, inherited from supernovas…
Six for gold,
stolen from native lands, used to pay for bodies…
Seven for a secret never to be told.
How long can we love it here…
Eight for a wish,
of justice and peace embracing each other…
Nine for a kiss,
to the forehead of someone with lost dreams…
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
a magpie’s wings shapeshifting sunlight into aurora borealis…
Eleven for health,
Achillea millefolium stopping the bleeding…
Twelve for wealth,
in exchange for human dignity…
Thirteen beware it's the devil himself.
broken hearts held hostage by colonialist minds.
Fourteen for love,
intertwined with rage…
Fifteen for a dove,
carying an olive branch…
Sixteen for the chime of a bell,
as all cathedrals fall…
Seventeen for the angels protection,
as magpies flood oppressed lands with beauty…
Eighteen to be safe from hell,
even when it is self-made…
Nineteen to be safe from a crime,
for accountability seems lost…
Twenty to end this rhyme.
The other day I was walking home and found a starling feather on the ground. It caught my eye because it was flashing green as I passed. So I picked it up and took it home. When I got home I decided I wanted to keep it safe so I taped it down to paper with clear tape. Then I tried to see the green flashing again and no matter what angle I held the paper - it was only black. Or, in your words, "for today I see no iridiscence adorning magpies, only the darkness…" Sometime the beauty cannot be kept and hoarded away - it only shines when free to fall and float and fly away. <3