Blackbird

It was a wonderful moment. Two 7th grade members of the Confirmation Class played their clarinets at my installation, offering their gifts to usher in the beginning of what we hoped would be a long journey together. My friend chuckled at the red sneakers. I smiled to recognize a Beatles’ song. Good things really do cycle around, don’t they? Then, because I’m a word person and the lyrics were eluding me, I googled to see what Blackbird had been singing. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night, Take these broken wings and learn to fly.”

They couldn’t possibly have known what gift they were bringing. They’d played more truth than anyone could have imagined. Likely, my friend and I were the only ones to hear it. The song I’ve never been able to stop singing (not that I’ve really tried); but yes, the night has been dark and cold for so very long. Broken wings accompany me, and I want and need to learn to fly – again. I didn’t manage to get the wind beneath my wings while I was there. Maybe I knew even then that I wouldn’t. Instead I’ve started down a new road, trying to sing, searching for the dawn, scrambling to get my feet under me so one day I can push off and fly.

In the weeks and months ahead, I will try to give voice to the journey here; in the hope that loved ones can share the road with me, and others can find company in their darkness. We’re not meant to sing alone, and the dark is never as empty when we can reach out and touch a friendly hand.