A blissful voice floats
from the boughs
of a solitary tree in my street
to land straight
upon my heart. The morning bird in my city
Is this the magical love song
I have been craving?
Or Nature’s boon that I lost
and is somehow back now
to stimulate my senses
in the lazy hours?
Sweet and soulful,
oh, you must be the morning bird
for I savor your voice
like some pure nectar
flowing into my starved soul
from a pristine vale. The morning bird in my city
But your name, I can’t tell
oh bird, for I am opiated
in the endless allures of city life.
Like some Egyptian mystery
or the Gandharan art history
you continue to elude me
but your voice the morning bird in my city
reawakens my quest
for the new undiscovered tunes!
I look around, and wonder:
Could I ever sing like you
and like you share love
and joys all around?
Ah, the people of now!
Consumed by incessant desires
and digital devices, The morning bird in my city
we, who shortchanged our lives
continue to deepen the chasm
of our disconnects
with each passing click, The morning bird in my city
and forget what we saw
moments ago. The morning bird in my city
We are stifling
the birds in us
and around us
more callously than ever before.
Yet, I can’t help but muse
if I could ever summon up
the forgotten spirit
to sing from my heart
and strum the strings
of love and common care
oh, morning bird, your way,
not my broken way!
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Ali Imran is a Washington-based journalist, who has worked for leading world news organizations as a correspondent, expert and in editorial positions. He is a published author and poet.
