'Black Shama'

Black Shama, Copsychus cebuensis
Forest Botial-Jarvis, Birds of the World website by Cornell University Lab of Ornithology
Sometime ago
(though I don't remember when):
I sang a song
That no one knew.
So I closed my eyes and covered my ears,
Imagining my own worldscape in that tune.
When I'm alone,
I belt a song
And hate my voice,
And then I belt again.
An unending sound
Of joy and rage.
Close my ears up and pretend,
I'm singing melodies up in the clouds.
They told me I was set apart—
A holy vessel.
So I must be careful with what I speak.
A curse or a blessing:
Anything I say is true.
But they're false prophets
Recruiting me to their play—
A make-pretend hero story
Where the music is in autotune.
I know this because
When I tried to sing for you,
The words all came out wrong,
And I told you to go away
When I really meant to say,
"Stay with me,
Let's sing together this sad tune."
I open my mouth.
I close it again.
I know. I'm sorry.
I know.
One afternoon, we sat
On a bench under golden sun,
And you asked me what was wrong.
And I shut myself up,
I let you down.
When you walked away,
I couldn't call out your name.
I waited for you to turn around,
But why would you
When only a ghost is there
To greet you when you do?
Yet when the noise overcomes
The world—
Thunder and yelling and sobs—
You ring me up
And we sit together,
Unspeaking. Unmoving. Uncaring
of the static in between our lines.
And maybe those moments
Ring louder
Than the moments
I couldn't sing for you.
I open my mouth.
I close it again.
I know. I'm sorry.
I know.
