Birding at the intersection of nature and spirit.

by Anna Kamienska

What’s it like to be a human
the bird asked.

I myself don’t know;
it’s being held prisoner by your skin
while reaching infinity,
being a captive of your scrap of time
while touching eternity,
being hopelessly uncertain
and helplessly hopeful,
being a needle of frost
and a handful of heat,
breathing in the air
and choking wordlessly.
It’s being on fire
with a nest made of ashes,
eating bread
while filling up on hunger.
It’s dying without love;
it’s loving through death.

That’s funny said the bird
and flew effortlessly up into the air.