A Small Bird

Last night I heard a small bird
Fluttering at my window,
In desperation battering
Her wings against the pane,
So sure that on the other side
Was what she had imagined,
The safety, the acceptance,
The shelter from the rain.

She railed against the invisible
As if to say ‘No vacancy?
No tiny space within the Inn
For a weary fly-by-night?
If I have failed to yield enough
To merit my admittance,
Outcast then, bereft of solace
Through the dark and perilous night?’

My worth falls short of entry fee,
My currency devaluated.
What more could be offered up
To meet the due criterion?
One day there will be no denial,
The window will be opened,
The shadow world left far behind,
The sanctuary earned.