Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
Someday you might visit. So, I need to tell you
this: I keep my windows dirty. I’m not a bad
housekeeper. My mother was. And, she’d say so.
I like the birds and feed them because I’ve heard
that you should feed the holy, and also because
it makes me happy to see them so delighted.
They are. You can tell. They have their ways of
expression, as I have mine. Though I’ll admit, theirs
are much better.
But, sometimes birds see things that aren’t there
and make bad choices based on these illusions.
Head first they go, hard, often. The window
pane is not a forest, not the sky, not another set
of feeders full of tidbits to gleefully chip and
fluff about. But when the lighting is just so, they
don’t get this. Sadly. No.
Have you ever held one that hit and fell, lifeless?
The spirit goes out of winged ones fast. I suppose
that is because they already know how to fly. Or,
they already know which angels to call by name. Or,
they become angels. These are some possibilities.
So, do you now understand the smears and splotches?
Maybe. Likely not. I say this kindly. I’ll explain.
My windows are dirty so that I will remember to be
thoughtful, discerning. I’ve seen a lot of things in my
life. Some of them, I later found out, weren’t what
I believed them to be.
© 2014-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press
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