Her Wasteland

He wondered through the miasma of her wasteland, taking with him everything he could take. Not a rock unturned. Not a stone left untouched. Not a smile left behind. She was his to do with as he pleased.

As he walked he noticed a bird. This bird fluttered and flew high over his head as if it were dodging something but not quite able to do so smoothly or effortlessly.

He watched it until it came towards him. He reached out his hand in front of him, palm turned towards himself and slightly cupped. He remained perfectly still and relaxed.

The bird hovered however spastically just outside of his reach but at eye level and turned to face him. She seemed to look him directly in the eyes, then tilted her head to one side as if to consider this great big powerful man who stood so quietly waiting.

The bird seemed to make up its mind and came forward slowly, carefully until it softly landed upon his finger above the cupped portion of his palm. The bird settled quietly, looking at this man who stood so still.

After a moment the man ever so slowly moved his hand towards his face bringing the bird closer into his view. They looked each other in the eyes. There was a kindred spirit there.

The man slowly moved his hand to his shoulder, so the bird could step off his hand to his shoulder if it so desired. She did so without hesitation, clasping onto the material of his work roughened shirt.

He looked around the wasteland before him and knew he now had the only thing of value in the whole land. Quietly in a gentle voice he spoke, “Stay with me little one, I’ll take you from this wasteland and keep you safe.”

The bird twittered in a sweet sing-song voice, her acceptance, and settled down upon his shoulder.

The man slowly, and carefully planted each step, being sure not to jar the bird, began his journey towards the gateway which would take them both from this wasteland.

The bird sang softly to him, her voice soothing the tempest within him, keeping him company on a journey he had thought would forever be solitary.

 

© Kate Spyder

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