White Bird

White Bird

Once upon a time, there was a little bird. All of white, she dressed herself in the morning and the songs of half-forgotten cemeteries, all crying out. She was a very young little bird, her downy feathers not quite finding flight. That didn’t stop her from believing that the sky could not contain her joy.

“I only know that when you play with Thelma, you always get the worst of it. That is why I say, be careful.” said Mother.

The little white bird flew along the lines of the trees. She crossed them like barbed wire and landed among the wild yellow lilies. Each one grasped at her with their feline paws and, among them, she knew she had a home. But the joy of the sky was still uncontainable, and something inside of her cried out that there had to be more than this. The lilies wiped their mouths with their sleeves and turned to devour another bite of her tail.

And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.
And from all across the world, Max smelled good things to eat, and so he gave up being king of where the wild things are. But the wild things cried, “Oh, please don’t go! We’ll eat you up! We love you so!”
But Max said, “No.” And he climbed aboard his private boat…

White birds
are
harder to
chew
than
wolves are

You are not a hen. You are not a kitten. You are not a cow. You are not a car, or a plane, or a Snort. You are a bird, and you are my mother.

The white bird couldn’t escape the gnawing grip of the tiger lilies. Her wings, now clipped by their maws, were tainted red by their bloodstained teeth. Her tail was caught among the green leaves. No one could see her any longer. But reality set in and the traps were broken. The sunrise gobbled up the night and she didn’t want to leave the warm embrace of the bloodied flowers…

Once upon a time, there was a princess –
“Was the princess you?
- and she fell in love –
“Was it hard to do?”
- it was very easy!
“Was he strong and handsome?
“Was he big and tall?”
There’s no one like him, anywhere at all…

iloveyou
crytheweeds
iloveyou
crythebluebonnets
iloveyou
criesthesun
iloveyou
crythetigerlilies

“I know who you are,” the man said, “for I made you. I built the tower and set it in motion. I planted the meadow, put fish in the ocean. I’ve seen you fall down in the mud and the goo. I’ve seen all you’ve done and all you will do. Here’s what you look like. Here’s how I see you. Put this in your pack and you’ll find it will free you from all of the pictures and all of the lies that others make up just to cut down your size.”

Suffocated by the words of the flowers and the desire of the skies, the white bird died…

And Max sailed back through a day, and in and out of weeks, and almost over a year to his very own room, where he found his supper waiting for him

And it was still hot.

Wings fly on.
Beating in her chest.
Maybe it’s her muscles straining to fly.
Maybe her heartbeat.
Only wild things love me,
She sings.
Until the sun
Eats her up
In his enthusiasm to see her
And the joy of the sky
Embraces a
White hand.

{Featuring selections from
A Bargain for Frances, by Russel Hoban
Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak
Are You My Mother?, by P.D. Eastman
The Disney classic, Snow White
A Snoodle’s Tale, by Phil Vischer
Original piece, “White Bird” by Catey Yuen}