Blue human birds
without wings of fire
not a phoenix
not a phoenix
no eyes that seem dark against
the sunlight shot above.
Wings always folded
yet always ready to fly
the air beneath
never seems to die away.
The air beneath
is only a sigh of relief.
Taken and released
almost as soon as
the ravens' call has
lifted away
too much like a curse
only set by a single bird
that sees no flashlight
against the forest stars.
The blue human birds
hold and carry that
heavy black
identity band
no numbers
no numbers at all.
Instead there clenches
other heavy tools to
keep those ravens in
their cages.
The blue human birds
spread their wings
sheltering and filtering the light
that flings itself to try and
fire up
the souls shadowed in the
ravens.
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