I was so close to despair. I may approach it again, it has many border crossings, but it's worth mentioning that I was there and at this moment I am not.
It should have felt good today, doing a good deed, but that would have been a selfish feeling. A few years ago when I saved a bird I actually saved him. Hanging by his neck, had I continued to hurry to my exam he would have perished there, but as goes the story I rescued him. Today was different. Having been struck by a car, injured legs and limp wing, this gull was not going to fly into the sunset with my aid. He had come to terms with being unable to move and nestled his head low between his wings, waiting for the end. I imagine birds don't have any concept of humanitarianism, let alone gulls.
If I wasn't fired this week I wouldn't have cleared my desk. If I hadn't cleared my desk I wouldn't have had a box in my trunk. If I didn't have a box in my trunk I wouldn't have been able to pick him up. If you hadn't loved me you wouldn't have hated me. If you didn't hate me we wouldn't have been there, if we weren't there we couldn't have picked him up. But the world is as it is, and is not in our control, only our aid. We bare the responsibility without the power, life is the balance. There is no purpose to your misery or mine, only consequences, and for the most part this one was positive.
I took him in the box from the parking lot to the pond. If there is no hope for him let there at least be peace. He taught me so much without any words, which in itself was a lesson. As I first tried to move him he flapped his wings ragefully out of fear, but very soon he came to terms with realizing his feet would not carry him from his destiny so he settled and let his patience carry him to his destiny. I wonder what he thought during his time in the box, unable to yell, claw, fly, run, or peck his way out of the dark unknown, he simply accepted it. He only budged twice and I don't think they were attempts.
I laid him down near the edge of the water - if the water is where he wanted to go it would be his choice, not my imposed catharsis. He validated me and struggled into the pond. Once in there he drank water like a being who still wanted to live. Facing the end he still lived for this moment, knees normally fold before.hearts do. He did not smile, his beak opened only to drink. Only once did it open without an attempted gulp, and he looked at me, and it looked like a grin due to the way gulls look, but he only told me to go. The words hit me as I said them to you, we can't give him life all we can give him now is solitude. I despaired out loud in that all I am able to do is write about him. There are thousands of people more important than writers, it's going to take some getting used to learning how to lose worth as I take on this vocation. A vet would have had none of these words and yet all of the answers. We said our goodbyes, named him Pharaoh, and let him cross the River Styx on his own. I was this close to despair, but now I am not there.
A few years ago, I stopped a bird from dying only so he could die somewhere else. He would fly into.the afternoon sun and fill my heart with happy, but the sun will set on him too, by now he too has seen night. Sadly today's bird found me closer to sunset. Night has fallen now and I can only hope that he was able to see the moon first. I saved a bird from dying only so he could die somewhere else. That is the despair I felt, and yet without any force my gloom turned to glee. I imagine what it would have felt like, thirsting endlessly on the hot pavement, perhaps being trampled by the sedan tires of unsuspecting young lovers. I then imagine what it would feel like, for the end to come while floating effortlessly on a midsummer night's pond. What end would a bird have chosen, given only those two choices, given any choices?
Even when we can't choose when it ends, by the grace of God we seem to always have the power to at least grant one last drink of life. I hope you see that, I hope she sees that, I hope he sees that, I hope I see that, before it ends. When it does end, the writer gains back all of his worth, for he can take something that the world has never seen and make it more significant than any other of its kind. Such is the nobility of Pharaoh, and hopefully that of my heart.
It should have felt good today, doing a good deed, but that would have been a selfish feeling. A few years ago when I saved a bird I actually saved him. Hanging by his neck, had I continued to hurry to my exam he would have perished there, but as goes the story I rescued him. Today was different. Having been struck by a car, injured legs and limp wing, this gull was not going to fly into the sunset with my aid. He had come to terms with being unable to move and nestled his head low between his wings, waiting for the end. I imagine birds don't have any concept of humanitarianism, let alone gulls.
If I wasn't fired this week I wouldn't have cleared my desk. If I hadn't cleared my desk I wouldn't have had a box in my trunk. If I didn't have a box in my trunk I wouldn't have been able to pick him up. If you hadn't loved me you wouldn't have hated me. If you didn't hate me we wouldn't have been there, if we weren't there we couldn't have picked him up. But the world is as it is, and is not in our control, only our aid. We bare the responsibility without the power, life is the balance. There is no purpose to your misery or mine, only consequences, and for the most part this one was positive.
I took him in the box from the parking lot to the pond. If there is no hope for him let there at least be peace. He taught me so much without any words, which in itself was a lesson. As I first tried to move him he flapped his wings ragefully out of fear, but very soon he came to terms with realizing his feet would not carry him from his destiny so he settled and let his patience carry him to his destiny. I wonder what he thought during his time in the box, unable to yell, claw, fly, run, or peck his way out of the dark unknown, he simply accepted it. He only budged twice and I don't think they were attempts.
I laid him down near the edge of the water - if the water is where he wanted to go it would be his choice, not my imposed catharsis. He validated me and struggled into the pond. Once in there he drank water like a being who still wanted to live. Facing the end he still lived for this moment, knees normally fold before.hearts do. He did not smile, his beak opened only to drink. Only once did it open without an attempted gulp, and he looked at me, and it looked like a grin due to the way gulls look, but he only told me to go. The words hit me as I said them to you, we can't give him life all we can give him now is solitude. I despaired out loud in that all I am able to do is write about him. There are thousands of people more important than writers, it's going to take some getting used to learning how to lose worth as I take on this vocation. A vet would have had none of these words and yet all of the answers. We said our goodbyes, named him Pharaoh, and let him cross the River Styx on his own. I was this close to despair, but now I am not there.
A few years ago, I stopped a bird from dying only so he could die somewhere else. He would fly into.the afternoon sun and fill my heart with happy, but the sun will set on him too, by now he too has seen night. Sadly today's bird found me closer to sunset. Night has fallen now and I can only hope that he was able to see the moon first. I saved a bird from dying only so he could die somewhere else. That is the despair I felt, and yet without any force my gloom turned to glee. I imagine what it would have felt like, thirsting endlessly on the hot pavement, perhaps being trampled by the sedan tires of unsuspecting young lovers. I then imagine what it would feel like, for the end to come while floating effortlessly on a midsummer night's pond. What end would a bird have chosen, given only those two choices, given any choices?
Even when we can't choose when it ends, by the grace of God we seem to always have the power to at least grant one last drink of life. I hope you see that, I hope she sees that, I hope he sees that, I hope I see that, before it ends. When it does end, the writer gains back all of his worth, for he can take something that the world has never seen and make it more significant than any other of its kind. Such is the nobility of Pharaoh, and hopefully that of my heart.
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