Even if I were to collide with the glass of the bus window, destroyed by all of the moments of my darkest hours, I can open my eyes and escape.
For, beyond every pane of glass, there will always be a bird wrapped up in the melodies of its own song, perhaps hunting, drinking, bathing, or flying alongside the bus as it slowly drives down the long, winding road home.
For every horrible moment of mine, there will be window facing outward, one that leads to another world where the creatures do not know my name, will never know my name. They will never know, never need to know me. They will never care for me, hate me, or expect anything from me. They don’t need to; they are birds. They fly here and there and sing and dance. They need nothing from me, ask nothing from me.
They want nothing but the persistance of their song.
In all of my worst moments, I find comfort in this.
Writing and photography by Hazel J. Hall.
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