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Gospel According to the Birds
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Books are wonderful
Black tracks across the page
Birds to say
There’s something here
Someone inked our talons
And we have walked on lines
Somehow
And there’s a message
Someone overheard a gospel
Before we were
Put back on our branches
Ancient pens
And when we’re gone
Our larger feathers go to humans
Who are
Surprised by grace
To leave a message
Whispers of angels
Like the ones who took their wings
To guide us
In our flights across the page
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They take the credit
Though we guess it is their story
More than ours
We need to messages
No gospels
We emerge into life
Knowing how to fly
How to listen to impulses
The small glories
We would never hide
Or cease in all our starts and stops
From praising the creator
You can hear us
Humans
Our song is perfect
Without lessons
Or egos
Or prevarications
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We could say praise us
In our stories
We know better
Without knowing
We fly
We sing
We know
God loves us
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What is made by birds walking across skin that has a third opportunity?
The answer is a page whose words resemble tracks upon vellum made by animals once alive, whose skin is stretched for a second chance at life, so to say, bearing a story now to offer life for a third time, especially if the story be a gospel.
This is the kind of riddle that literate medieval people enjoyed together, literate meaning mostly monks, the kind who kept texts that had not been destroyed in the fall, thus saving what was left and what could feed into new nourishing, again to say, mostly in Europe a new civilization
The birds talking is not typical back then but my idea now. And Aesop. And Aristophanes.
Sorry, teacher can’t stop chirping.
Old English riddles are found in The Exeter Book, a volume discovered that had served as a coaster and something for impatience to glide a knife into (or why anyone would drive a knife into, along a book). A not-hiding glory to be plainly found, opened, and discovered.
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Photo by Mehdi Sepehri on Unsplash
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September 21, 2023 at 7:32 pm
Beautiful, thoughtful writing.