Brave New Dawn (Poetry)

There is a bird with broken wing
who, silent, lodges deep within
and waits to heal.
She’s ceased to feel
a vital part of anything.

Long ago, she used to sing
her feathered poems green with Spring
but silent now
she wonders how
and why high hopes persist and cling.

This bird is tiny — hurt and frail.
She is a ghost grown thin and pale.
A memory stirs
old nests of words
that echo softly, tell her tale

of broken wing and wounded heart
pierced by love’s destructive dart.
Caged in, she broods
fights grey-blue moods
and prays for brave new dawn to start.