He is not his affliction....
Middle son, once my name in another culture
was "Little Sun". If you can't remember me then,
picture, now , the clear, ready eye of the Cockatoo who by her hope, helped me to recover from tragedy.
She was jailed for being wild in this confining culture for twenty years, was confined; ignored until she was threatened with numbness
in order to feel, she began pulling out her own feathers.
When she'd first begun crying out for attention, she'd been labeled as, "needy." She loved life and craved community more than her culture would bear.
Did she lose her self? Not as far as I could tell when I rescued her, but remained what she was: a being who rises, whose nature is to pass through, over, and beyond her nature is to sing to attract opportunity to love and be happy again.
For a time it seemed that I'd lost you, Or you lost you, and so lost sight of me.... … with empty nest syndrome and grief threatening to engulf me, I'd gained a bird.
She is easier with a companion now, She has suffered…. even more than you. From the start she'd not shown grief, not for a son or a brother, not even a mate, but accepted her fate not only without question but at times in revelry, even bliss.
She lives for laughter, praise, and to sit near wherever I reside to drink from my cup of love--and deeply; filling the cup of her lower beak and then lifting her back and swallowing.
That misfit child/bird is a song that swells in my lungs, and although she chews up the molding
when I'm not watching, (then rushes to her perch when I approach) she is an amused deconstructionist, only, intending not to harm but find meaningful activity, but a nest, in this residence, she does not know how to build.
She can make no sense of the arbitrary seeming rules, but for humans, "not knowing" the basic rules, can drive us and our fellow humans mad with anger.
Throughout all the difficulties relating, though,
she can not assign or receive blame. It is not her nature and for this reason she is angelic.
So by her example, I am learning to tolerate feeling helpless.
I know that your life, as mine, is real.
You are not the trouble that set into your brain, though you want me to alleviate it and relate to you with ease. Forgive me, for that is more than I can do. I have no choice but to wait for you to heal.