Empty-Nesting

Dearest speckled feathered thing
tethered to tattered past
fallen into sidewalk cracks
somewhere far from home
I found you in the back of a classroom
Plumage marked with well-masked scars and burns buried beneath bones, but
you were beautiful
And no one in that room knew you held such knowledge
Knowing the pains of childbirth
and which lines to sign on the adoption papers
Knowing both your parents
but wishing neither's addictions you favored
Knowing the best ways to find drug money success
and the hands of your uncle going up your Sunday dress
You were a fragile bird
a hatchling
with a history far too heavy to be only seventeen
and you looked past me
Glazed-over gaze played shy, but your brilliance couldn't hide
your talents talking for you, your tears reflecting through you
so I collected rocks after school-
trying to protect you from those amused with
shattering glass houses
and it wasn't until I witnessed your history bleed out of you
in a 2 A.M. hospital room and you said
you were afraid to go home
Though home couldn't quite describe the one bedroom you slept scared in
sharing with ten other occupants between jail cells and transition, so
I took you as my fowl
covered you in quilt on my couch
before I could flick the lights you were out
and I realized
This was the safest sleep you'd had in a long time
and in not much time the spare room became guest room
title from teacher to guardian without much guidance
and it was hard
And I was too naive to see the lunches I packed
and purchases of bras and socks in long need of replacement I made
only put space between us
My efforts to nurse built boulders, your heart became stone
living under one roof we both felt alone
and I remember
The image of your mother through the window
We sat in silent meal and she saw you
Stumbling onto the street
the people around us gasped at her, gawked, laughed at her
her limbs flailing in alcohol waltz she called to you
Through the clear she yelled for you and I could see
you were ashamed
So I opened my wing
and tucked you under
and after much struggle
you nuzzled me
And though you left the tree early,
though I'm not the typical empty-nesting story
I still believe I did the best I could
And you've lifted now-
flown into the arms of the Armed Forces
finally found a place to keep safe from the crag throwers
crack owners
those who prey on brooding baby birds, but
I still shift in my twigs
Still hope for the strength of your wings
hope that you when you plunge into the sky
you don't fall but ride the air that moves between friend and foe
and know
I'll forever gather loose stones
and think of you.