If we never meet,
know
I tried my best
to find you
finding me.
But birds don’t sing
in broken cages.
They halo steel
in the dust of hope.
If you felt the shake,
that was me—
wirebitten,
wingtorn,
still building sky
out of scrape and fall.
Maybe you’ll catch it—
a glint in the gravel,
a feather that doesn’t belong.
That’s me,
still looking,
still loud,
still yours.
