Feathers

She picks up blood soaked feathers
collects them in the evening light
never looks to the sky
never lets herself remember  
what it was like to fly
 
They fall towards a dark, dead earth
at night when the moon rises
landing in the grass and the dirt
blood soaked feathers
broken wings and wrenching screams
there in the fear stained light
 
She caresses their lifeless young
tears rolling down her lovely eyes
she remembers what it's like to fly
and when she sung
the world grew hush  
there in the fading sun
 
Pretty cranes flying towards the moon
blood soaked feathers
drifting down that night in June  
she feels the air on her face
and she doesn't know if she'll ever
try to fly again