Bluebird Song

Before it was beaten out of me
Before they taught me to color inside the lines
Raise my hand, and wait to be called upon
Before I was schooled to stand up straight
Avoid chewing gum; speak when spoken to
Before being trained to respond to bells
I learned to cipher my words
With poetry and slang and gibberish
Masking the fullness of my feelings
With oblique language
And casual nonchalance
Before my windows were walled in,
With self-medication
Sullen silence and cloudy self-pity
I used to speak directly to God
Connecting to the cosmic voice
Each night, sweaty underneath
The quilted bedspread
I called out to the creator in my head
And God he spoke back to me
In echoed tones and repeated phrases
Like the reverberating sounds
From Drive-In speakers:
Or the call of the bluebird:
Never forget, never forgive