Silver Bird – A Poem

Silver Bird

There we stood,
my mom and I.
Poised to fly,
up in the sky.

Her eyes were brown,
and so were mine.
She held my hand,
I beamed with joy.

Behind us stood,
the Silver Bird.
Flown by my dad,
it’s engine roared.

We were so young,
our hearts were full.
Our pilot’s smile,
was never bored.

Where would we go,
I did not care.
There was no way,
that I could scare.

Our hearts belonged,
between us three.
If you can’t tell,
our hearts flew free.

Then came Wes,
he was my brother.
His soul was sweet,
I’ll want no other.

His heart joined ours,
he was not scared.
But when we flew,
his gut impaired.

Like my mom,
his face turned green.
The turbulence,
was quite mean.

When he hurled,
I moaned and sighed.
The best defense,
stay on my side.

Far below the Silver Bird,
earth awaited our return.
I always knew the sky was blue,
and down below not all brown.

His hair turned gray,
just like mine.
He was so young,
too short a time.

I wish to fly,
up in the sky.
I know he’s there,
we’ll meet again.

This time with wings,
you cannot see.
I’ll go and be,
filled with glee.

Our hearts belong,
to us, our four.
My mom, my dad,
our Wes, and me.


Listen to Author Read on Soundcloud

Healing Through Writing – I’ve started a new Healing Through Writing project.  The title is not fully formed in my head, yet. Title 13 Weeks…(?)  hmmm.  The idea came during the summer, during the 13 Weeks… from the date of my brother’s terminal diagnosis to the date of his death in 2002.  Those 13 weeks… well, I’m sure you can imagine how hard it might be to watch a younger brother die of cancer.

The project will include 13 photos, and I will write about each of them.  Poems or short stories or whatever comes through ;-).  I have not given myself a time limit or a schedule.  It will be spontaneous but I’ll post as I go along.

Flying was a family affair.  My dad is still a pilot.  He flies a sleek little glider and is a tow pilot – he tells lots of flying stories and makes nice flying movies.  Turns out there’s more than one storyteller in our family!  

I hope you enjoyed this poem inspired by looking at this 1968 photo of my mom and me standing in front of our first family plane – a Cessna 170.  She received her pilot’s license too.  Just in case the pilot was ever “out of commission” requiring her to get us back to the earth safely.

March 21st, 2019 updates: My mother passed away from breast cancer in February 2018, a few months after I wrote this poem.  Much of my writing has been inspired by her battle with breast cancer. I am writing the chapter in my memoir, tentatively titled Flight of a Change Agent – Memoir of a Social Worker, about how Wes’s death changed my life.

As always, thank you for visiting!  Please feel free to like, comment, share, re-blog or follow as your heart desires. Namaste

If you enjoyed this post you may like:

5 Things To Expect When Your Mother Dies


Quotes of Wisdom 27 – A Friend’s Presence During Grief


Mooney 6988U touched (2).JPG
Me and my little brother standing on the Mooney. Fast little bird!  It was our 2nd family plane.  Circa 1973.

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