• Like black scrolling letters,
    a fear nags at my heart.
    Tightening, squeezing,
    until all breath is gone,
    and the dark brings only tears.

    - This was a poem I wrote after having the worst night of my life. I woke up, because I couldn't sleep, thinking...about our new family members...birds, flightless things, their wings clipped...anyways...my heart fell in the night, resisted the immense tug from below, like depression hurting much worse than physical aches. I wished it gone, but only until I slept in my mother's room, in her bed, with her, did I feel a relief that caught in my throat and caused the crying to cease.
    But only this morning did I realize the raw throat and raw stomach were not from mental, spiritual, or emotional pain, but from physical pain, a disease.

    This unending nightmare spirals me into deep despair. I love these beautiful birds, but I fear they are my weakness, my desire and death. Their feathers are green and blood red at the same time.

    At night, I can not sleep, I stay awake, unknowing that my eyes never shut and my heart still beats faster, faster...faster. A disease, mental...and physical, pain caused by birds. My desire, and death.