Bird

– for MB

There’s a bird of fire in the sick man –
the man who climbs the hill of his illness.

Someday, the fiery bird inside the man,
like the sun retracing its arc above him, will die.

The bird inside the man stirs. It says:
pull that book from the shelf; or:

play this album today – and this one, too; or:
go outside

and walk with your thoughts
under the trees; or:

call a friend and drink from the well
of shared stories; or:

risk love, without worrying about where
it may or may not lead.

Sometimes, when the bird flits into his mind
and speaks, he listens;
sometimes, despite everything, when he follows
the bird’s advice,
he finds he is translated into flame.

 - Eduard Burle