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Little bird…

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Little bird,
You flew so high,
Your pointy beak
Almost pierced the sky…
But it was dangerous,
That you didn’t know.
As, little bird, you just flew
With the flow.
So you reached higher
And burnt your wings,
Your frail body
Unexpectedly falling…
They picked you up
Put you in a cage,
For once and for all
Stealing your libertinage…
They cruelly trimmed
Your feathers long,
But they never managed
To silence your song.
Now you’re gone
But your voice still remains…
Little bird know
That you won, in the end.

*

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This poem was inspired by the life of one of the best know Québec singers, worldwide, after discovering the above murale during a walk downtown lately. Alys Robi was an international singer, that became popular in the 1940s. After severe depression episodes, she was locked in a mental institute, and suffered terrible treatments for five years, including a lobotomy. Later, she came back to the scene, in great parts thanks to the gay community that considered Alys a true icon. She died in 2011.

3 thoughts on “Little bird…

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