the little bird

I'm deep cleaning my room and found a project from English my senior year of high school. I made a book of 10 poems inspired by events that happened during that school year. I had forgotten most of these poems and the stories behind them, particularly this one called "the little bird."

The Little Bird

falling from her mother's nest
still within her shell
the little bird was laid to rest
as quickly as she fell
there she lay upon the grass
broken and ignored
and above her while the seasons passed
her brothers freely soared
on purest white and silken wings
they flew from tree to tree
and listened as the gay lark sings
the little bird still rested in peace
spring had gone and come around
the doves now grown built nests
hatching eggs made chirping sounds
o'er the little bird laid to rest

Part of my assignment was to explain the meaning of each of my poems. This is how I explained it:

One thing that I have become increasingly affected by this year, for some reason unknown to me, is abortion. it's such a dangerous thing to discuss with people because some people get really angry and offended and i dont like to make people made with my beliefs, but there is soething inside me that just aches and aches about this subject. I can explain the reasoning behind why i think it's wrong easily, but it goes far beyond reasoning with words into my heart where I can't even explain the pain that i feel for victims of abortion. a few months back i learned about partial birth abortion and I remember crying so much while I sat and read the Wikipedia article on it, and then politicians' comments on it, and then the medical description of it. I can't even think about it. The next day at school I was telling someone about what I had learned and I just started to cry. And in my other classes, even without talking about it, just thinking about it made me feel so much sorrow. I don't even know how to express this. I just wish there was a place outside of my church that I could discuss this with people that don't agree with me so I can maybe give them a new perspective. I used to be pro-choice until probably November when some chamber of my heart finally turned on the light and I realized how I had been missing some central facts about it. Anyways, the poem is about a bird that falls from its mother's nest and dies before she even has a chance to fly like the other doves do. No one mourns the little bird, there is no tombstone for her, and the mother doesn't even come check on her after the fall. She is just forgotten. No one cares that this potentially beautiful bird that would one day have a nest of her own doesn't even get the chance to spread her wings once. It's the same way with babies. They don't even get to open their eyes. They don't get to learn to fingerpaint. They don't get to do the hokey pokey. To learn to French braid their hair. To date. To get married. To have children of their own. I really just hate abortion and this is the safest way, a metaphorical poem, that I can express how I feel about it without offending anyone.

It's interesting for me to look back and see how I expressed my pro-life beliefs then and how I do now. Hmm.