poetry wednesday : state bird

March 28, 2018 in poetry wednesday

On place, belonging, love. “But, love, I’ll concede this: whatever state you are, I’ll be that state’s bird, the loud, obvious blur of song people point to when they wonder where it is you’ve gone.”

State Bird

by Ada Limón

Confession: I did not want to live here,

not among the goldenrod, wild onions,

or the dropseed, not waist high in the barrel-

aged brown corn water, not with the million-

dollar racehorses, or the tightly wound

round hay bales. Not even in the old tobacco

weigh station we live in, with its heavy metal

safe doors that frame our bricked bedroom

like the mouth of a strange beast yawning

to suck us in, each night, like air. I denied it,

this new land. But, love, I’ll concede this:

whatever state you are, I’ll be that state’s bird,

the loud, obvious blur of song people point to

when they wonder where it is you’ve gone.

Patti Digh is an author, speaker, and educator who builds learning communities and gets to the heart of difficult topics. Her work over the last three decades has focused on diversity, inclusion, social justice, and living and working mindfully. She has developed diversity strategies and educational programming for major nonprofit and corporate organizations and has been a featured speaker at many national and international conferences.