One Wing

I could see the sadness in his eyes,
Longing to relive his glorious days,
He was a majestic bird of the skies,
A symbol now fallen in disgrace.

I remember it was the summer of ’89,
It was my very first job as a teen,
Cleaning cages of disabled wildlife,
And his was the only one I couldn’t clean.

He sat there on the perch in his cage,
His eyes piercing anyone who came near,
His beak reminiscent a dangerous rage,
Now in pain but still inspiring fear.

Sometimes I stood and gazed in wonder,
What they’d done to him was illegal,
Why someone shot him I pondered,
The one winged American bald eagle.

And when his handler brought his food,
He’d jump the branches spreading his wing,
He’d stare back so we wouldn’t intrude,
He moved with pride as if he were a king.

One day he watching some flying birds,
I overheard his handler as he stared,
And to this day I still remember her words,
When she said “I know you miss being up there”.