Song for a lost bird
I woke up one day and found myself in a dark place, halfway up an enormous tree. I don’t know how I got there; there was no way down. The tree was centuries old, grand and gnarled and near the end of its life, and though it was dark, I could see that the bark was brown and black, and it was covered in lichen and moss, and full of tiny little dips and bumps; handholds for squirrels and other creatures.
I thought I saw something high up in the branches and so I climbed to investigate.
I came to a long branch that had been stripped of its bark, exposing the white underneath, like bone stripped of its skin, and at the end of this branch, was another, full of leaves. The leaves were green, but they were dry. As I approached this branch, I saw a single leaf come free and drift towards the earth. Realising my chance, I leaped from the tree and caught the leaf, and the leaf caught my fall, and I slowly floated to the ground.
I landed gently upon soft earth, covered in brown dry leaves from the ancient tree. looking around the dimly lit forest floor, I found that I was surrounded by many fallen things. Old pine cones lay beneath pine trees so ancient their needles were browning. And I came across old snail shells, resting atop pieces of soft bark, and dry dead flowers adorned the ground. I found acorn shells and acorns, with no seeds within them. But I saw no oak trees. I wondered if the acorns had been left by a squirrel in a hurry, but I found no animals, and I heard no birdsong. I heard nothing. The air was still here, neither cold nor warm, and it carried the scent of dry things turning to dust.
There was no clear path in any direction, so I picked my own, venturing deeper and deeper into the dark wood, just barely able to see, trying to pick out clues, signs of life or some kind of route towards a brighter place. But for a long long time I found nothing but old old trees towering over dry motionless things, and it was getting darker, and darker. And I came at last to a place of total darkness and stillness, and no matter which way I walked the darkness stayed with me.
But then, slowly a new light came to my eyes. The earthy soil transformed into cold hard stone under my feet, as I found a path that lead me out of the forest, and I found myself walking in what seemed to be a great hall. It was a huge space, and I felt the presence of walls and a ceiling, beyond my vision, hiding behind the darkness.
As I proceeded, I could feel these walls coming closer, and closer, until the new, dim light was able to illuminate them; walls ceiling and earth guiding me like a funnel into a straight narrow tunnel that lead me gradually upwards. As the walls came closer, I found that they bore inscriptions; strange letters of a strange language that I could not read, elegantly cut into the stone. And alongside the letters were pictures. It was easier to determine their shapes by touch rather than sight. And it seemed that they were telling a story of some kind. A story that said goodbye.
The tunnel lead me straight forwards and up and up and up, until I came to a great stone door that barred my way. The door was heavy and there were no handles, but it had been left slightly open, allowing a glimmer of daylight to creep through. I pushed hard at the door, and with a great effort I moved it slowly aside.
I passed through the doorway, into the sudden glare of the sun, and then I turned to look back at where I had come from. I was standing outside an old crumbling building, low to the ground and simple in its construction. Was it a tomb?
I left the tomb and continued walking. It was a bright, clear day and I passed through a country of wild green grass, trees, bushes and flowers, filled with life. Birds, animals and insects were everywhere. It was rich and beautiful, but my curiosity drove me to a sight on the horizon, so I kept going until, after a time, I came to the outskirts of a great city. I passed through an archway, once great, now old, made of crumbling brick and surrounded by shattered glass. Wandering the streets, the city seemed at times to have been deserted recently. I found abandoned cafes with half finished coffee laying cold in white cups, and open bottles in parks not yet emptied of beer or wine. At other times it seemed to have been long since left to rot. Trees were uprooting the concrete and tarmac, and the windows and cars and bricks were covered in thick layers of dust. Many cars lay in the middle of the road with flat tires, and clothed mannequins stood in shop windows covered in a dust that obscured their faceless faces.
There was little sign of life here, besides grass and plants and trees in the parks and by the sides of the roads, that had been left to slowly reclaim the stone jungle.
It was a labyrinthine place, and I soon lost my way and wandered the lonely streets for a long time. And I would have stayed lost, had I not, by chance, come across another soul in the city. Walking through the tall grass of an old park, I saw, sleeping softly underneath a tree, a snake. I gently woke the snake, and asked her where I was. The snake told me. I then asked the snake what she was doing here, and the snake replied that she was waiting for every last one in this place to leave, before she left herself. I said I was lost, and asked if the snake would be able to help me. So, she did. She lead me on a winding, impossible path through the labyrinth, down unfindable alleyways, up unseeable streets, and round unnoticeable corners, until we came to a beach, at the edge of the city. And then she left me, to return to her tree.
The beach was wide, long and filled with white sand. It seemed to be a beach often visited by lightning storms because much of the sand had been struck into glass. I took a piece of glass and held it up, and it glowed red in the sunlight. And, after some time walking the beach, I saw a tiny bird, sitting on the sand in the distance.
As I got closer and closer to the little creature, I saw that it was black winged and yellow chested, with black yellow tail feathers and a blue green underbelly and it was preening itself with a long thin narrow beak. And it looked somehow sad.
I gave her my name, and she gave me hers.
Then I asked the bird, why did she look so sad?
And the bird told me that she looked sad because she was sad, and she was sad because she could not fly home, and so she could not rest, even though she was very tired.
I asked her why she could not fly home?
And, she told me that she had been forced to leave her old home before she was ready, and so now she was stuck here on this beach, scared to fly out to sea in case she should get lost, for she would not know the clues to lead her in the right direction, even if she found them. She had been flying back and forth over the sea, looking for something beyond the horizon, but there was nothing to find, and now she was exhausted and only wanted to sleep in her home.
And she began to weep then as birds weep. I mean to say that she sang a song. She did not wail, and she did not shed tears, but she was weeping all the same, for she was tired and alone and she could not sleep.
I gave her my hand and offered her my help. So we walked together, along the beach, until we found a boat, and pushed it out to sea, in search of the lost bird’s home.
I do not know how long we sailed for. For a long time there was nothing to see but sea in all directions, and nothing to hear but the rhythm of the waves. Sometimes my companion would fly out to look for signs of land, and always she came back with nothing to tell but stories of endless sea.
But after a time, me and my companion saw an island upon the horizon. When we both saw it she chirped in excitement and immediately flew off to have a closer look. She flew back and forth then, between the island and the boat as I sailed towards it, bringing me excited stories of what it was like, and what she could see. She seemed to have forgotten how tired she was. I learned of strange animals, and exotic plants and trees. Birds and mammals and reptiles and amphibians and fish, of many colours, shapes and sizes. Some were very young and full of energy, while others were old and tired and dozing. And some, she said, seemed truly ancient, and they were resting peacefully in a deep and dreamless sleep.
Then, she came to the boat one last time, and told me that it was time for her to go and rest. She flew away to the island, and did not return.
I approached the island alone in my boat, and when I got there, I found that it was surrounded on all sides by tall, steep cliffs, made of sharp smooth rock that were impossible to climb. I waited at the base of the island, calling her name and straining my ears, trying to hear the song of my friend. But I could not hear her, nor could I hear the sound of any creature. Even though I knew my companion was in there somewhere, there was nothing to hear but the rhythm of the waves crashing against the rocks. Eventually, I realised she had found the place she was looking for, so I took my boat past the island, and continued my journey. I never saw her again.
Jack Paton
July 2019