The Last Breath

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Each time I see a lovebird whose breath is coming to an end,
I ponder what the meaning is of a life lived for them.

What is their true purpose, to bring more beauty into the world
or is it much deeper —
a mystery we humans are never privy to see?

 

Their death always reminds me of how brief our life can be
one day you turn around —
see half your life now gone and what you do
from this moment is the legacy that will live on.

 

And as the hot tears fall while I hold this beautiful bird
my heart begs for mercy, and I plead my prayers heard
for her spirit must move on and she must do so all alone.

 

She opens her eyes and looks at me one last time,
finds inner strength and takes flight into a sheltering tree
I’m sad for I know —
I will never see her soar ever again.

 

©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
Author’s Note: For those of you who are regular readers, you know we have a flock of wild lovebirds that come to feed everyday. I’ve grown quite attached to them and when I lose one, I always cry. 

By David González Romero – originally posted to Flickr as Birdie, CC BY 2.0, Link

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62 Comments on “The Last Breath

  1. A dear poem and such beautiful birds. My Aunt used to have a pair of lovebirds when I was young. I loved visiting her and getting to see them.
    I can understand you growing attached to them. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hi Linda, thanks for sharing your thoughts with this week’s tale weaver. I see lots of rosellas around where I live. The question as to the purpose of life is pertinent for us all.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. How lucky you are to see those birds everyday ~ Of course, its sad to lose them as you have become attached to them. I am reminded everyday of how short life can be, when I see flowers fade away or feathers on the ground.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Love Birds aren’t regulars by me. Though I have some colorful other birds.
    Just seeing the Cardinals bright reds, Blue Jays, and Purple finches… sigh.
    While away I saw mostly gulls and sea birds. One or two sparrows though.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Very nice! They are not native to Arizona, but the story goes they escaped from an aviary and started breeding in the wild. They like Arizona, because the climate is similar to Africa, where they originated. Thanks for reading!

      Liked by 1 person

  5. This is another poem musing on the great mysteries of life and death. Is it the time of year? Or is the default setting we go to when we don’t have a subject prompt? Or is it Bjorn talking about full stops? Either way, I like this very much. I like the way you start with something very concrete, and then move on to the abstract.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. A gentle, sad and thoughtful reminder that death comes to us all, especially the lines:
    ‘Their death always reminds me of how brief our life can be
    one day you turn around —
    see half your life now gone and what you do
    from this moment is the legacy that will live on’.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. My life is more than half done now and I wonder every day what to do. The longer we live the more alone we find ourselves and then we all must take that final journey. Alone, almost as a child again.

    Liked by 1 person

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