Sky has fallen at the end Of this road. No place further To go. Pain goes to and fro From its nest in my chest Every morning, every evening.

Little bird, little one, don’t chirp So insistently, for others might Hear what is only for me to bear. Some seas won’t forget us nor Can we forget them crashing in us.

A schooner once came into port. The prodigal jumped onboard Slapping hunger like a knife Against his thigh. Dreams since Are broken flints of its blade.

Little one, little bird, don’t beat Your wings on my dim windows Covered with dust of these miles. Night has fallen. Go on now. Fly, Fly away into its dusky sadness.

Written to the music of an Irish lullaby H-O Abha-inn (Little One)