Consider the Mockingbird…

Mockingbird by Amy Curkendall.

In the city tumult of Valencia street, I hear his song, clear amongst all the street sounds as though skating through them. The calls rise above all else, then fall pervasive like fireworks on all of us who would notice. Sure enough, true to his nature, on the highest rooftop pinnacle, there sits the Mockingbird singing his wizarding mimic show.

Now the White Crowned sparrow’s trill, now the Chicadee’s chirps, now the Red Tailed Hawk come to spook the Pigeons, now the Steller Jay’s alarm or a Vireo’s mirthful escapade…

And it struck me, as I ponder all the tugs in our hearts,
All the boundaries we devise,
All the “others” we evoke,
All the strife and pain through generations
All to protect “us” from “other.”

The song takes me through time now, through generations of us and them all in a moment and as I look up at his form on the rooftop, head up and thrown back, beak wide so wide and throat fluttering with each heart wrung phrase of so many songs. His body entire shivers with song; now the wings open with a warble as though to emphasize! Now the tail joins in as though to dance…

As I look up now, though your song I have known since my younger years, I see you as though for the first time.

And I laugh and tears come and I see:
Of course you, the One who is All, would come as the Mockingbird so we could know to sing everyone’s song, and know it is our own.

~ Karl

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