Am I mad when I see the birds
on fire, the bridge in flames,
burn patterns on the bodies?
See how gray and blue the shadows
moving towards the river's water.
Am I too human to endure the dying
floating in its swirling violence?
Are we condemned to travel towards
the flickering light-ness letting go
of memories of life disguised by
sweet, cold darkness?
Here are my blistered shoulders
sprouting into white and shining
wings thrashing towards the sun.