The Canary

Feathers that are bright and radiant

Like shimmers of light for all to see.

The canary spends its day

Filling the empty air around it

With its beautiful, melancholy song.

All those who walk by the canary’s cage

Cannot help and admire how radiant

This yellow- colored bird really is.

 

Outside the window, there are plenty of other birds that can be seen.

Pigeons with its dull, gray feathers

And simple coo-coo song.

All members of a flock.

All uniform and in unison

Not daring to reach those high notes

And continue spending their days on the ground.

 

The pigeons yearn to be able to have

Such a sweet song like the canary.

To be placed in such high regard

And have their voices be relished.

Instead, they spend their days

Pecking on concrete

And the scraps that life tosses their way.

 

The canary can never be among these pigeons.

How can the sun not be in view for all?

To bask in its warmth and brilliance?

Instead, the canary spends its day

Alone

And in its cage

And in its elegant swing

Swaying back and forth

Singing from the pits of its soul

To please all those who continue to pass by.

 

Even though the canary has a voice

That wants to be heard

It will always sing solo

In this metal stage.

The canary will never experience

Its sweet voice

In a chorus with any other bird

Besides the one in the mirror.

 

Every waking moment

These warm notes echo

From the confines of this enclosure.

The canary seems to be joyful

In having its own stage

To showcase its talent and voice.

To be separated from those bland pigeons.

Those who greedily captured such a warm song

Truly believe the canary must be content

To live in such comfort.

Secured from the cruelty of nature.

 

But the canary loses itself in its songbook

And forgets what it means to be a bird.

To soar high among the clouds

To have its body and spirit feel light

To create its own home among the branches of the tree

To have its song pierce the world to an audience below

And to greet the new Spring day.

 

Every note shrieked by the canary

Is not a beautiful tune of joy

But a sad plea

For the canary to never be forgotten

In this metal prison.

Raised in this world of isolation

Without any bird to join its chorus

The canary understands

That this bittersweet song

Will draw listeners to its radiance

And finally, its loneliness can melt away

Even for a moment.

Even if the door to this cage was open,

The canary would never attempt to escape

Since it does not know what it means to be a bird

And it could never be a pigeon.