The Messiahs of Broken Birds

Some said they came down from the grey hills;

others called them children of the silent lake

A pair of kind smiling eyes and no other skills;

their warmth was genuine and not at all fake

#English #poetry #poem #dark #messiahs #brokenbirds #loss #souls #magic #love #hope

 

Their few soft whispers rejuvenated dead souls;

it was said there was old magic in their words

They nursed their ugly wounds and gaping holes;

they were truly the messiahs of the broken birds

 

They were no wizard, no magic but simple love;

they shared with them only one common bond

They were broken, more than the wounded dove;

they cared for them with love and even beyond

 

No other mantra, hope was their one message;

life as they saw it, was unending ups and downs

Optimism was the ticket to secure the passage;

the only one way to tread the unknown grounds

 

They were prophets indeed, but prophets of loss;

their legacy was the dark night, no summer day

Their heart was all bitter, covered in green moss;

‘cause in the end, their birds always flew away

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