Witness

What is it to witness
the spectacle of decay

witness the severe abuse
of a swan who thinks himself

ugly, unworthy, unloved?

Witness the pecking of the duck,
bold with jealousy and fear
and the desire to tear

feather by feather,
joy from joy,

until the beauty
of one soul

is damaged
and unable
to fly.

Let the wounds
weep and crust over.

Let the cruel creatures
forget their egos

and know that love
can only be given
when it is found
in the witness within.

The darkest call across the pond
is from the abandonment
of pride like a loon
diving deep into the muddy
losses at midnight.