The Thrush Poem by Jan Sand

The Thrush



I found it on the ground
Where the cat had dropped it
At my shout.
It lay quite still,
Beak wide open,
Quick hard heavy breathing.
Eyes with pain like bursting stars.
I picked it up and saw its guts
Drape from the jagged rip
And felt its pain and hopelessness
Congeal inside myself in ice
And hatred for the world.
So plunged my hand and bird
Into water in a pail
To put quick end to pain.
But I feel it still,
The water on my hand.
Icy.

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