Feathers & Dreams
I watched in horror as the bird went up in flames,
couldn't beat his wings fast enough to up and fly away.
So feathers into dust, dreams into dust for this small one,
this one of many birds.
I closed my eyes to see delicate wings in smoke,
heard the last cry of courage, heard the last sweet note,
and feathers into dust, dreams into dust.
Helpful hands won't reach where they will only burn,
these are lessons only if they are heard, don't turn away,
honour them by seeing them.
Don't turn away, honour them by seeing their pain.
Writer/s: French For Rabbits
