A sparrow came in

Yesterday

I saw a sparrow playing

in the Plus 15

connecting The Bay

with the rest of the Rideau Centre

he was flying

between perches

on two indoor trees

unconcerned

about his own predicament

and unmolested

by passers by

who were pleased to see

a bird doing his thing

in the breezeway

normally occupied

only with cell phone chargers

the lockers and the key holders

and the usual rush

to get to the bus

or on to the next shop

while the money

is still burning a hole

in pockets

no longer used

to carrying change

or Kleenexes

and tell me
what
is the price of two sparrows
Matthew 10:29
one copper coin
but not a single sparrow can fall
to the ground
without his Father knowing

I wonder whether

the sparrow knew

his predicament

or was concerned at all

to find a way out

but I was reminded

of Bede

who said

that we are all like

birds who have flown

into dark rooms

without windows

oh king, it seems to me
that this present life
of man on earth
in comparison
to that time
which is unknown to us
is as if
you were sitting at table
in the winter
with your ealdormen
and thegns
and a fire was kindled
and the hall warmed
while it rained and snowed and stormed outside

a sparrow came in
and swiftly flew through the hall
it came in at one door
and went out at the other

now during the time when he is inside
he is not touched by the winter's storms
but that is the twinkling of an eye
and the briefest of moments
and at once he comes again
from winter into winter.

in such a way the life of man
appears for a brief moment
what comes before
and what will follow after
we do not know

therefore if this doctrine offers anything
more certain or more fitting
it is right that we follow it

as we carry our own gospels
and meet our own
father and son
prince and King
Edwin of Northumbria

sceptic or true believer
partisan or idealogue
bigot or propaganist
demagogue or idolator
bearing a lie
or pork pie

if you like Cockney rhyming slang
a pork pie or a whopper

Socrates like

in your soul
some strange
admixture
of foolishness
or wilful
stupidity
that active
self-forgetfulness
Nietzsche
half-heartedly praises

as the trick
of the master
manipulator
turning the mirror
on himself
a Narcissus

hiding under a rock
at night
what he finds
with great glee
in the morning
as he himself
drops his glass

what have we got
but the stories
we live by
but we are not to take
these so seriously
lest we rob ourselves
of a chance at illumination
a glimpse
of a distant Heaven
in an eye
open to
each little surprise
recognizing
that beauty
does not rest long
on the bloom
or the blush
of a Molly or a Branigan

imagine the devotion
of those monks
who carried the bones of Cuthbert
from Bamburgh
to Lindisfarne
from there to Chester-le-Street
when the Vikings came
and next to Ripon
when some other Great Heathen Army
threatened
those lovely bones
that traveled again
by cart
to Durham
and there they stayed
only because the cart got stuck
and the monks
felt that was a sign
that Cuthbert
wanted to be reburied there
having wishes and powers
beyond
what anybody had ever seen

and what of Bede
who made
the Lindisfarne Gospels
with their fanciful beasts

great

once and again

the memorializing monk

whose tomb humbly states
Here lies Bede

unpretentiously
taking
your breath
and carrying your soul
away

and what of
the journey of the Gospels
hotly turning back
with the breath
of a cyclone
the stickiness
and humidity
of ignorance

are those Gospels
safe still
or were
some of the pages charred
or others burned
in some freak fire
started by
some son of Jung
and lover of one
of his shadows
or its equivalent
in twigs and kindling

but maybe
we are too harsh
on random travels
and half open roads
blocked for cyclists

or sewer repair
or pedestrians walking
to rattle their bones

for some worthy cause

I think it's time
we thought
how to release
that sparrow
who came in
for a look
and as we let him
out the door
maybe we can watch him
through the window
while he makes his way
playfully
to another perch
in another Plus 15
in another flit
of precocious pique
on another day
in anything but
his native land.