First Bird

I was digging through my file folder while getting ready for taxes, and I found this poem. One of my roommates in college, Sarah, had sent it to me just after I graduated and was working at camp. It was handwritten on a piece of paper and illustrated beautifully with dogwood branches drawn in crayon. :) I loved it then, but it has this quiet depth I didn't really understand. Seven years later, I think I get it.

First Bird
by Julia Kasdorf

The first bird that sings
sings for all birds, even

when she stands for nothing
but herself, a dun-colored finch

on a dogwood branch.
No telling what a bird knows,

if this seems the first time
light glowed on the horizon,

or if she thinks her beak
alone has pierced the night.

We know nothing can be whole
that hasn't been torn.

There is no holy thing
that hasn't been betrayed,

the way notes, once forced
into her tiny throat,

come out this dawn as song.