How special am I
When I am but the bird
pecking for seeds
in a hand that may feed
How special am I
When I am but the hand
offering grain
to a sparrow’s crave
How special am I
When I am but the eyes
Softening so
As the fennel stalks grow
How special am I
When I am but the fern
Reaching for sun
But not so much as to burn
So special am I
When I am but the bird
Tilting its head
Towards a palm with bread
So special am I
When I am but the hand
extending fully
With grace and empathy
So special am I
When I am but the life
Feeling and giving
And creating with meaning
-July 2nd, 2026
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Author:
Aashi M. (
Offline) - Published: July 6th, 2026 00:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This poem has the very feel of teaching in it. That seed seems the seed of wisdom that we feed to others. The had ours extended in help to those in need, we need those eyes to see those that are in need and then extend the hand being the person who gives meaning to life. To me this then becomes a god within oneself one of creation an I am that I am. A fave
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