Do Not Forget Me

Do Not Forget Me

(“Are not five sparrows bought for two copper coins? And yet not one of them is forgotten by God.” Luke 12:6)

April is the fulcrum which winter and spring
balance upon. The hummingbirds come,
one an hour, to taste their sugar water hanging
above the backyard deck.
The eagles are fewer, their prey hiding in the
thickening grass and foliage.
The skies take turns threatening and inviting;
you begin to dream of cloudless days after
just an hour of sunlight between rain showers.
It has left me in between shaded sorrow and
sunlit rapture. My soul seems like a captured bird
which the clouds could not hold.
My mind feels disconnected and can only think
of napping as a cure for lethargy.
My brain is weary of masking itself from the
critiques it has always paid attention to. But I
am caged
by my own disengagements. I am so far down
the road that
I am the old one in the room. I’ve roped myself
so tightly
that my wings have atrophied despite my desire to fly.
But I can remember, somewhere between the age
of accountability and mid-puberty,
a boy who stumbled between whirlwind dancing
and curious crushes. Do not forget me,
boy of the past,
and name for me again the secret things
you’ve kept silent for too long. Do not forget me,
uncreated one, on these secondary days.