The Loon

Like an echo

the call answers itself

a sound

and a sound

and the ghost of a sound

through the long, dark hallway

of distance between us.

I pause to tap on your closed door.

Like the loon’s call,

my summons

met with silence.

I know what the bird is seeking.

It answers a similar cry within me.

Where are the others of my kind

and what has become of my own kindness?

I hear how alone the loon is

how hopeful for a landing

how fragile its hollow bones

how desperate its wings’ thrum

this migrant:

always journeying

never home.

~ by ImaginaryCanary on July 29, 2015.

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