It Isn’t the Birds – A Poem

It Isn’t the Birds

The birdbath fell over yesterday.
I found it
lying in the garden,
the bench where she used to sit
empty nearby.

I stopped filling it months ago,
a petty act
of misdirected revenge.
It isn’t the birds’ fault the bench sits
empty nearby.

It isn’t the birds
whose life plan
was made impossible
by a committee’s decision.
It isn’t the birds
who sat on the veranda
needing companionship
unwilling
to ask for it.
It isn’t the birds
to whom she said,
“I’m leaving you alone
to give you space.”
It isn’t the birds
who replied,
“I don’t give a fuck
what you’re doing,”
a petty act
of misdirected revenge.

It isn’t the birds’ fault the bench sits
empty nearby.

(By C. Eric Funston)