THE PIGEON

"It's only a pigeon," you said.
And the casual way you said it shocked me.
Through your eyes it was a non-entity.
Birds of any kind were merely things: unintelligent
and lacking the capacity to feel either pleasure or pain.
In fact anything feathered, in your opinion,
had no real reason for existing at all.
It was if they were some freak accident of Nature,
an experiment gone awry. Even common sparrows
were no more than an irritating nuisance.
Their chirping grated on your nerves
when you wanted to lie in. Impossible for you
to comprehend their discomfort
on frosty mornings. You were a camera
capturing images that lacked any physical reality.

I felt my world shift from yours.

The pigeon scrutinized us intently
like a scientist observing the multiplication
of a deadly virus, it's gaze fearful yet compassionate.
It's understanding
filled me with a powerful sense of connection
I had never experienced before. Enlightenment
came that day in the Nature Reserve.
Your intense aversion to pigeons:
"They are vermin that should be eradicated!"
Such rank hypocrisy! I saw red.
"No, we are the vermin. Look around you.
It's humanity who are killing the planet!"
The pigeon crooned in agreement.
Suddenly it swooped up, flew between us
and perched on a branch, still watching us.
And I could've sworn it shook it's head
as you carelessly tossed your cigarette butt
into a nearby hedge...