Her heart of darkness is a bird named sorrow.
He flaps his wings once for no
Twice for tears
Three times, just for exercise.
Sorrow flaps twice and the eardrums of those passing by
Speak no more of lineage
Of those who came first because
They did not make you.
You were born
In the same instance when
A bird was sighing, a man crying, a child
Understanding, but not quite yet
That sometimes you must see the rise and fall
Of your own
To know you are being.
Sometimes you will
And not quite know, and
Other times you will know and just barely