The Value of A Bird, a poem by Prafulla Vyas at

The Value of A Bird

The Value of a Bird

written by: Prafulla Vyas


The bird lay dead on the hot tarmac road
Crushed by the wheels of a shiny vehicle
A victim of machinery
Cold and cruel
An evil of modern civilization
It flew too low
Slammed into a racing car
The driver in a hurry
Not caring or stopping
It was only a bird
And quite dead at that

If the area was wooded
If the road was not built
The little bird would have
Sung its heart out
Amongst the swaying branches of the trees
Flying from one to the other
Queen of the skies
But it was not so
The woods were chopped
The roads were built
The evil of modern civilization
Killed the little bird

What if it had been a man, or a woman or even a child
What then?
An indignant crowd would have gathered
Fire engines blaring red angry lights
Police sirens screaming murder
News splashed on the front page
A desperate hunt for the killer

But it was only a little bird
And quite dead at that

Who will remember this bird?
Or will it bake in the sun?
Its feathers withering, flying in the wind
Perhaps the garbage man might pick it up
And toss it into his truck
Perhaps Mother Nature will be kind
And send a seagull to scoop it up
And drop it in a shady spot
Buried under the leaves

But it was only a bird
Quite dead at that
Nobody cared, nobody stopped
No no no
Not even I
I crossed the road
A silent prayer in my heart
I will light a candle for the little bird
I thought.

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