For the Birds

Dark arch, lone stack, cracked cliff facing the North
Are quiet now where summer’s thousands called
& I sit here knowing that they set forth
Without issue; again the sand eel failed
To follow the current from the colder seas
The seething sea coast’s larder, flashing silver in the sun
Passed few & far from this ancient meeting place
& the childless birds, with no food to be had, are gone.

Countless generations of auks & kittiwakes before
Journeyed from out there on the slow rolling tide
Each crag & point & cliff colony of the shore
A place of ritual & territorial pride.
Each couple with their place upon the wall
Their voices & the beating of their wings
Rise & swell in a primal clarion call
Of wind & wave & secret deeps they sing.

Of love & hate & sex & giving birth
Their cries our common heritage declare
We the city dwelling creatures of the earth
They, laughing, weeping citizens of the air;
We burn the green world to fuel our play
As if we had some right to do this thing
They watch & from our lands they turn away
& for wilder, lonelier climes they bend the wing.

Where once a hundred thousand flickering wings
Darkened the sky & we marveled at the sight
How soon before such wild & stirring things
Will be but dreams & fallen from our sight?
& who do you work for & who do you bank with & how
Did you travel here to listen to my words?
Our way of life is a fantasy you know;
We give them our money, they kill our birds!

& my heart has been broken a hundred thousand times
By my own impotence & hypocrisy
I am heavily implicated in humanity’s crimes
& the ignorance of “What’s it to do with me?”
& a medley of similar excuses & cop out lines
Just add to the pathos & cynicism that hold sway
Our culture of convenience ignores the signs:
“Oh it won’t make any difference anyway!”

When the birds are gone then the spirit of the land will die
Each act, no matter how small it may seem to be
That honours & acknowledges the cry
Will make a difference to our destiny.
So let us make sacrifice to this magical world
& deeply question what we have been told is true
By the nay sayers with their hoard of expert words
& ask ourselves what it is in our hearts to do.

I sit upon the cliffs I’ve always known
Among sea pinks, wiry grass & heather
& think of my friends & relatives who have flown
Away from here, they’re facing heavy weather.
In the storms of the northern seas they are at home
Upon the vast & turning ocean’s back
Asleep beneath the purple of a storm
Afloat in rafts far out from cliff & stack.

The challenge we face, the question we are asked
Bird & human kind both face today
To offer to the greater good we are tasked
If we want to change things we must find a way
A patient way, we must step carefully
Over issues of money, freedom, privilege & power
Through fractal beds of emergent complexity
Lest we become the boot that crush the flower.

Each tiny thing we offer to the sacred earth
Like the fragile heartbeat of a small bird in our hand
However insignificant may seem its worth
In the grander scale of things, across the land
Is a raindrop, beloved of the enormous sea
Each warrior’s gesture of renunciation
A single note in the resurgent symphony
An unseen power of destruction & creation!

Dark arch, lone stack, cracked cliff facing the sea
A place between the worlds it will remain
May the crying, winged people always be
& may their families flourish here again
& let them say: “Some heeded the call
That rang out in anguish from the northern sea
Brave & strong enough to know that small
Acts can change the world & make us free.

B. Patterson, 16-8-05.