The Ostrich Whisperer

Poetry | Shiksha Dheda

The wind whispers softly

forsake your shackles

chaining you to the ground.

These wings are too heavy

for the gentle breeze

I say, displaying

two athletic legs

—powerful on the ground—

not in the air.

The wind ruffles my hair briskly

—enticing me—

forget the land you call home.

The wind refuses to listen

—becoming adamant—

—whisking me away—

a whirlwind romance.

I am whimsically carried away

—head-over-heels—

swooning in this mish-mash,

I force myself to remain grounded

—stick my head into the earth.

The wind sulks away

—in mournful rejection—

I continue as usual

I’ve only lost 

what was never mine.