I present to you a blog about birds, laced with metaphors, subtext, and me. I hope you understand.

I want to fly. I want to travel, to go to Ireland. I want to do things I’ve never done. I want to write a book. I want to write a song. I want to sing. I want to paint, to draw, to write poems, to create. So do it, you say.

I have been making progress. It takes time you know, to learn, to figure out how all of this works. And I will continue. Soon. But right now I’m on my perch.

Perching birds are called passerines, so go ahead and call me a passerine. The name means sparrow shaped. Passerines are songbirds. So maybe perching is just natural for me. I aim to soar. But I’m not an eagle. I’m not a bird of prey.

I am a passerine like a sparrow or a raven or a cuckoo. Yes, go ahead and laugh. It’s all starting to make sense now. Just remember it’s only natural for a passerine to perch.

Ornithologists tell us passerines are the most advanced birds, as well as the most adaptive and the most intelligent. Though they perch, they aren’t necessarily caged.

Need I remind you that blackbirds are passerines too? Thank you, Paul McCartney for creating a song for me. I’m sure there were others more worthy than I to be the subject of a song, but for someone who understands what it’s like to live with broken wings, your song is my epiphany.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

I know my moment has arisen, but I’m still learning. And learning and practicing, and learning and practicing can be exhausting. Sometimes I need to rest and to observe. I’m steadying myself and resting for a bit, locked in for safety’s sake.

Perching birds do that, you know. As they sleep, the muscles in their little legs actually “lock in” so that they don’t fall while they are sleeping. Of course, all birds, all beings, need to rest. But resting for a passerine is dangerous. It’s easy for a predator to swoop in and devour the vulnerable bird.

Though passerines are wild and free, there’s something to be said for the kind souls who provide these birds with shelter, building them birdhouses, filling their bird feeders and baths. And thankfully, though they love them so, these kind souls don’t try to cage the birds. When the birds need to fly, they fly. But they come back. They are caught but not caged.

I’m sure all passerines appreciate a safe place to land, especially the blackbirds.

And by the way, there are a couple things I might add about blackbirds. They like to sing particularly after a rain. Listen closely, for their first songs of the year are usually heard at the end of January or early February.

As for myself, I have been flying into the light of a dark black night for sometime now. I’m weary, so I’m perching. I’m thankful not to be caged, but I wouldn’t mind being caught.

12 thoughts on “Take these broken wings”

  1. I’ve always been fascinated with birds. My vision (uncorrected) falls in the “legally blind” category. I got my first glasses when I was 7. Prior to that I had never seen birds. I was instantly captivated.

    I wonder if our dream of flight (we all have it, you know) has to do with heaven and a longing to return to our heavenly Father. There’s a freedom in flight, but also a purpose. I mean, birds don’t just hover.. they go someplace… well, except humming birds sometimes.

    Passerines (I like that word) perhaps haven’t made up their minds. The world is so big and wonderful that it’s hard to decide which course to take. Oooo, Ooo, I wanna turn left because the golf course is pretty,… but if I go left I might run into my friend Bob. Maybe if’n I just perch for a bit, the decision will be made for me.

    Yep, I think that’s it. ‘Tis easy to follow orders. ‘Tis hard to dream and make your own course. And subconsciously we are probably afraid that, like the birds, we will poop on people along the journey. 😉
    Fear not my friend, for God shall provide the wind beneath your wings, and no sparrow falls without His knowledge.

  2. Oh, wow.
    “Maybe if’n I just perch for a bit, the decision will be made for me.”
    What did you do here? Step into my subconscious and pull out what I might be trying to say? That’s scary. How do you do that?
    I have had wind beneath my wings, but it is so still now. Where did the wind go?
    I’m waiting.

    • Aye, I dost read between the lines. You know, the most beautiful birds of all aren’t the ones that soar. Though spectacular in flight, that is their sole acclaim. ‘Tis OK to rest. Birds don’t forget how to fly, and wind is a current that ebbs and flows. Ride the tide…

  3. Reminds me of a sweet story. I have four little grandchildren who live overseas. Their environment is quite different from ours; no yard, they seldom see grass or trees and don’t see, or notice, birds. They spent the summer with us last year. Each morning I had my coffee on the back patio with one or two of them. We would watch the various birds at the feeders as they would come and go. One morning, the six year old asked me why I let my birds fly away into the field next door and into the trees. He wondered if I might lose them by letting them fly where they wanted! It took me a moment to realize that he thought the birds belonged to me. He did not understand the birds were free and wild! An interesting through the eyes of a child.

    • What a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing it with me and for taking time to read my blog. We are all like little children sometimes. It takes us a moment to understand.

    • Exactly. I doubt many people realize that I just poured out my life in this blog. It’s a bit vague, but I guess I’m “out on the limb,” so to speak, waiting for SOMETHING to happen that changes everything.

  5. I wonder if perching birds have to think about locking their legs when needed, or if God made them to do that automatically.

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