The Tiny Bird

A tiny bird opens her eyes for the first time. She sees the world through innocent lenses. And it is a wonder to behold. First, she sees the comfort of home that surrounds her. The sticks and leaves cradle her, comforting. Then, she sees the branches and the bark. Rough, strong, sturdy. The tree trunk is an incredible protector. The sweet smell of sap and growing leaves floods her senses, the warmth of the sun as the cool wind ruffles her soft, downy feathers. But then? Then she sees the sky.

A vaulted, blue abyss. This little, new life shivers and her heart soars when she sees the sky. The beautiful white clouds, the light color is never-ending. No boundaries. No limits. In that moment, she knows. That sweet little bird, standing on a precipice of new beginnings, knows that all she could ever want is there. In front of her. The sky. Immediately, she longs to feel the wind across her wings. She aches for the freedom, to be surrounded by the clear blue nothingness.

The little bird finds two feet beneath her. She stares at them curiously for a moment, in wonderment. After a second of pondering, she decides that there is no time to be wasted. She has to, some way, get to that sky. Maybe these strange things attached to her will help. Shakily, she stands. Aha! She thinks. That’s what they’re for! Small, tentative steps are taken away from the center of the nest. The little bird smiles to herself, proud of her current state of accomplishment.

She takes another step, and another, and another, until she is wobbling forward at a pace laden with anticipation, another, and another, tripping over her toes in excitement, downy feathers shivering, anther, her beak smacks the wall of the nest but she hastily climbs, every tiny step closer to the sky, another, and another, and one last step and she is teetering on the edge of a new world, teetering on the edge of freedom, about to reach the sky and…

The world turns. The sky spins out of place. The sweet sensation of freedom falters and fails. Falling, falling, falling… and a crack. Pain shines bright in the small bird’s eyes, no longer innocent, no longer blind to cruel reality. Darkness. No sun, no trees. No sky.

                A tiny bird opens her eyes for the second time. She sees a ruined life.

                Many months later, the lenses through which she views the world are clouded by hatred. For herself, for her foolish desire. A desire for the sky. She remembers, in pain, that first day of her life. The feeling of hope and glory now long behind her. A bird. Grounded. She shakes her head and glances down at the useless wings that lie limp at her sides, shattered and broken from that dreaded fall.

                She is still small, but grown now. Her downy feathers have grown to become a soft, sweet, speckled brown. Gentle eyes that know things, so many things about the world, even though she never leaves her home. The feet beneath her are sturdy and tough from a life of walking and climbing.

                This particular morning feels just like any other. Another day for the bird, and another battle. A struggle to survive.

                She stands from her nest, buried between two tree roots. In this nook, she is safe, hidden from the view of predators. Sunlight casts spotted shadows on the forest floor, moving with the leaves. The wind rustles her feathers, twisting around her in an invisible dance. She keeps her eyes lowered as she walks, not looking at the… you know. She watches the ground, that cruel dirt to which she is eternally bound.

                As per her usual morning routine, the flightless bird makes her way to the neighboring pond. She halts at the edge, staring down in to the cool, dark water. On this morning, the sun comes through the canopy and hits the water’s surface at an unusual angle. The little bird can see her reflection staring back at her. What she sees makes her sad. She sees a broken and shattered soul. A heart buried in longing. And there, above her, is the… thing. She hates that reflection. A small tear falls from her eye and disturbs the silent glass.

                When the water settles, something else has appeared in the picture. She tilts her head and squints her eyes, realizing that the apparition is not a thing at all, rather, another bird, standing behind her. She hops around quickly, but in her startled haste, she loses her balance and finds herself splashing in the water. As gracefully as possible, she pulls herself out of the cold and wet and faces the stranger. As water drips from her twisted wings, she sees that the stranger is chuckling.

                Is there something I can help you with? She chirps, grumpily ruffling her damp feathers.

                Nothing, really, he replies. I just noticed you hopping past, and… he pauses, tilting his head and watching her struggle with her useless wings. Do you need help?

                NO, she snaps. I’m not crippled. I don’t need your pity.

                He blinks slowly at her, not even glancing at her ruined wings. Instead, he watches her eyes. You are broken, he observes.

                Obviously, she scoffs, shaking her head hatefully at one wing.

                No, he says softly. Your heart is broken.

                She stares at him for a moment with wide eyes, wondering. How does he know? She looks at him, observing his unbroken wings. She can tell from his eyes, deep, honest, and meaningful, that his soul is whole and beautiful. In that one moment, she trusts him. She sees the sky in this stranger, and she feels the same immediate love that she felt on that first day. In him, she sees hope.

                He takes a step towards her. I can fix that for you.

                She backs away. I don’t need to be fixed.

                You’re right, he counters. You are beautiful as you are. But, your world would be better if you had hope. I see that hope is a thing you have lost. I can piece your soul back together, if you’d like. He takes a few more cautious steps forward, until he is standing right in front of her. He stares down in to her eyes. She stares back, her defiance slowly crumbling. He is right. She has lost the will to live, lost a desire to fight her battle. Maybe… maybe he could help her to see the sky.

She nods to him; my heart is yours to heal.

He raises his wings, fluttering softly so he is hovering just above the ground. Gently, he wraps his feet around her, securing her in his grasp. His wings beat faster, lifting them both off the ground. They quickly rise through the canopy. Before long, they are there. The sky.

Her heart soars and flutters, turning over as the soft blue cradles her. She feels the sunlight on her feathers; she feels her soul take flight. The soft grip of her helper is a comfort. The sky is everything she hoped it would be, and more. She can feel her shattered soul slowly start to piece itself together, the feeling so glorious and… happy. She is immersed in belief. For so long, she was alive and not living. She feels the beautiful sensation of hope.

A tiny bird opens her eyes. For the first time, she sees the world as it should be.

The small, broken bird has made it.