The Shadow of the Bird

           Ever since I was a small child I have held a special awe for birds. It isn’t the feathers or the metaphorically sharp eye or even the semi-hollow bones of a bird that captivates me, but the product of these characteristics, the flight of the bird, that I continue to dream about today. I love to watch a bird glide in for a landing or a flock undulate as one whole through the sky. For this reason I am typically seen walking around campus not staring at the path in front of me, but at the sky.

            Something about the flight of a bird gives me hope. It could be the way that the wind, utterly invisible to me, becomes tangible as it supports the feathers of a red-tailed hawk. Or it could be the sheer faith that each bird has in themselves as well as their environment each time they dive headlong into empty space, depending on the nothingness and the strength of their own wings for deliverance. Mostly I think my fascination stems from the relative impossibility of it all.

            I found myself gazing into the blue sky a few days back, mentally listing all that needed doing when I arrived at my dorm, when I noticed a few sparrows flitting round a tree. Fancying myself as a sparrow I yearned for the freedom to soar. Suddenly my vision seemed to flicker. I spun around in search of the culprit just quick enough to catch a glimpse of a darkness travelling along the grass. This patch of shadow proceeded to circle around me and I looked up to see a large falcon circling overhead. The inky shadow continued to surround me and I wondered at the way it seemed to absorb whatever terrain it happened upon, morphing into anything it touched with a liquid fluidity.

            All at once a horrific thought came to me; what if I am not the bird…. what if I am the shadow? Rather than floating effortlessly through the springtime breeze I am stuck plastered into the mud, conforming to whatever adversity comes my way. Capable of mimicking freedom but only by way of the solid ground. Helplessly, hopelessly trapped in the bondage of shadow but perpetually racing to catch the light. One after another these possibilities raced through my mind until the falcon, to my horror, initiated a headlong plummet towards the earth. As I stood there gazing at the sky the falcon abruptly pulled out of the dive and landed gingerly atop its shadow.

            The two opposites met and converged in a harmony of darkness and light. Neither destroyed nor remaining, the shadow of the bird hugged its captor and I let go of the breath I had been holding. This is it. This is me. Maybe I am the shadow but that is okay so long as I manage a reunion with my captor. I can’t outfly my shadow but by accepting it for what it is I can negate its power. I can do that.