As I listened to a special provider's sadness last night about a hobbiest friend who suddenly ran from their relationship, this that I wrote about a true encounter with a sparrow out at sea came to me.
I thought about my budding relationship with this special lady, her lost relationship, and what it takes for a friendship to work.
Who is the sparrow, who is the cheek in any relationship- and how sad when fear disrupts a special one.
The Sparrow
One hundred fifty miles out to sea, last land 24 hours ago seen.
A tiny young sparrow came to rest alone on my sleeping cheek.
The soft cheek felt the quivering fear, her weary wings took resting peace.
Tiny claws lightly imprinted the cheek’s skin, her weight no burden; the cheek’s stillness no threat.
Soon her quivering subsided, not trusting, but not fearful, her body stilled and basked in rest, my cheek caressed the gentle claws.
After a rest, the inviting opening into the boat drew the curious spirit, the rested wings; she fluttered, explored, curious, shy, cautious, took food and sustenance.
Our eyes met for the first time. Hers darting from mine to the opening and back to mine, she froze; she fixed her cautious eyes on my unblinking, accepting gaze and she remained still.
For a long moment, eyes searched eyes, found trust, acceptance— connected for a precious instant. My eyes grew heavy and closed, I lay back down, giving my tender spirited friend the opening, her freedom assured.
She explored for many breaths- then silence. Gentle claws on my cheek again. Two more hours sailed by, momentary friends on a drifting sea. One resting, one loving, neither possessing. The time came and the sparrow’s spirit soared from the safe cheek, back into the gentle breeze over the vast landless water.
Will her claws and weary wings ever again seek that loving cheek-- will they find new rest or no rest. A tear rolled down the cheek to a thirsty lip- the bitter salt awakened a lonely tongue. And the cheek lifted a soft smile, lifted a gentle imprint of a soft quivering resting claw.
Ten years later, the gentle imprint still there, the salty tear now rare. Two gentle spirits soar alone still, imprinted forever, connected by a moment’s brief peace. A moment where fears died, freedom remained. The cheek forever grateful for the sparrow.
