The Crying Bird

My feathers fit me well,
I look good.
I have a beautiful voice,
I can sing all I want.
I can fly as high as I am pleased,
I am free.
The human eyes cherish me, mother nature surrounds me.
The trees are my friend,
they invite me to make my nest between their branches.
I refuse to be put in a cage.
I do not want to be owned by anybody.

Being blessed with such a variety of choices,
yet, I have caught myself feeling insecure.
At times, I sing sad songs.
I am not sure about my destiny.
These questions remain unclear for me:
When the rain falls, and my feathers are all wet and dirty,
or when the mighty winds blows,
for my safety,
where do I go?
When the trees start falling down and my nest goes astray,
when my wings lose their strength, who should I turn to?
Is eternity for little birds like myself too?

When I feel so frail
one set of thoughts keeps me going.
If my designer has so carefully created me,
if my maker has provided, and cared for me,
he must have planned my eternal destiny.
I have to stop worrying.
I have to start singing a joyful song.
I shall seek to know Him.
That mighty creator must deserve all praise and glory.

He must be faithful.

He must be love.

He must be God.

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Contributed by MARIE SONIA LABORDE
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