Birdsong

He doesn’t know the world at all

Who stays in his nest and doesn’t go out.

He doesn’t know what birds know best

Nor what I want to sing about,

That the world is full of loveliness.

When dewdrops sparkle in the grass

And earth’s aflood with morning light,

A blackbird sings upon a bush to greet the dawning after night.

Then I know how fine it is to live.

Hey, try to open your heart

To beauty; go to the woods someday and weave a wreath of memory there.

Then if the tears obscure your way

You’ll know how wonderful it is

To be alive.

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While visiting the Virginia Holocaust Museum in Richmond, Virginia, I came across a wall of poetry and drawings from individuals detained in concentration camps. I wept at the beauty these adults and children managed to create while trying to survive in the darkest of places.

The poem above touched the center of the center of me, reminding me that life is meant to be experienced through the verb - live. Sometimes we forget to look out from the nest. We get caught in the story of our safety and miss the world's loveliness. Today, I'm simply remembering how fine it is to live. May you find yourself living your life.

“Birdsong”, anonymous 1941.

A poem courtesy of the Jewish Museum in Prague.