MARÍA DEL PILAR

I hear him, I listen, he whispers

    things other children don’t know how to know

    strange words about wings and dreams,

    cages

    feathers, freedom

    death

I see him staring with those eyes

    wondering

    making me wonder

    how soon she’ll die

    a frightening thought

    because if it is soon

    and if I wish or, even worse, pray

    that it will happen

    then his freedom is granted

    only as her deathbed way of imagining

    that she can buy a ticket to enter heaven

    with that one good deed

    all will be meaningless for me

    if I lose

    my own good sense

    my kindness

    my God

The other day he recited words so completely new

    that I understood the verse

    was his own

    not borrowed, memorized,

    begged from the godmother’s books

Soaring

    he said

Spirit

    he whispered

Imprisoned

    he murmured

    and then he went on

I only caught a few fragments

    of his rhyme of delight,

    something about a golden beak

    something about singing

    and wishes

    and hope