There’s a white bird that visits me
when no one is looking-
no warning, without wing beat
just there, like a feeling
I wasn’t meant to keep.
It helped me learn things about myself
without a single word spoken.
Like how silence sits heavy
how it seeps
how it teaches you to want quietly
even when broken.
People see me, they think I’m just watching the water
still life, small ripples,
nothing deep.
But really,
I’m waiting
for something I shouldn’t keep.
See—
I wait with a patience that isn’t mine
counting time in breaths and pauses
in glances that almost cross a line
in moments that blue my truth with lies.
Looking for flashes of white,
feather fine, feathers bright
elegance edged with something dangerous
soft…but never harmless.
Little Egret—
You arrive in silence and secret.
You come to me
like narrow water between old brick,
tight paths, muddy tracks,
where footsteps stick
and memories get caught between the cracks.
Beneath stone bridges
that have seen too much,
heard too much
held too much
and still don’t speak.
Little Egret—
you arrive in silence and secret.
Not to open sea
no space to be free
this is close,
confined,
where your shadow meets mine
inviting me to cross a line that others don’t perceive.
And if the water could talk,
if the banks burst and it began to leak,
it would say the things we swallow
the things we hide
and dare not speak.
It would name this pull,
this pressure,
this—
almost mistake.
This thing we know is all too much
for just one soul to take.
Little Egret—
you arrive in silence and secret.
So I stand here,
still, like I have nothing to lose
when I should be learning,
not to want, what I shouldn’t choose.
Learning restraint,
unlearning disguise.
I should be realising how often truth
can live within our lies.
Little Egret—
I see you,
even when I pretend I don’t see.
And sometimes I wonder, if I’m the one watching you,
or perhaps it’s you that watches me.
You arrive on silent wings,
just to measure how close I move,
how near I stand
to the edge of something
I’ll never prove.
Little Egret—
You look like peace from afar,
when I see you in the distance,
soft, untouched,
almost harmless,
almost innocent.
But I’ve learning not everything still
is still for a reason.
Not everything quiet
is something to believe in.
Because when I get too close—
when the water won’t flow,
when the silence sits heavy and the air hangs low
I swear…
Little Egret—
You’re not just standing there
caught in my view.
You’re looking back at me,
the way you always do.
