Wednesday, 16 February 2011
Sorrow covered hands
Yesterday I went to school a different way than I normally do and as I was walking I could see on the ground ahead of me a rich carpet of colours. I could not tell what it was but the colours were magnificent--reds, golds, tawny browns, a bit of blue. As I got closer I realized it was a bird--a pheasant. A dead pheasant to be precise. He was not torn apart but but there was a bit of blood around his throat. He was lying right in the middle of the driveway to a car park and I stood there stunned for many minutes looking at his beauty and crying while people just walked on by. Some walked around him and made a noise in the back of their throat like they were disgusted that a dead animal should be in their path. Some just stepped over him as if he didn't exist. People in cars were craning their necks to see what was there, but no one did anything. I could not bear the thought of leaving him there--right in the entrance of the car park--where his magnificent form would be crunched under the wheel of so many cars. I pulled him by his wing (he was surprisingly heavy) to the sidewalk and tucked him away so that no one would kick him. Then I bent down and prayed for him and went to school. When I walked home he was still where I left him. If he is there today I will have to do something. I don't know what. But I cannot bear to think of leaving him there.