The Dying Pigeon 

I left work in a hurry, 

I see you slowly dying,

Amidst this flurry. 

I reach into my bag,

To find what crumbs,

I have left to spare. 

Oh accept this gift, 

It is all I am able to give,

May God pardon us. 

You tell me:

“To serve life, 

In the face of death,

Is what it means to truly be alive.” 

(DWL) 

This poem is definitely one of the odder poems in my collection. It was written during the Winter of 2026 and circles around a moment with a dying pigeon. It was 10pm, I had just finished a shift, only to find a lone pigeon sitting on the cold ground. I noticed that it didn’t attempt to fly away when I approached it, it seemed sad, I figured it’s time on Earth was dwindling so I did the only thing I could think of at the time. Which was to offer it the leftover crumbs from my dinner, and the water I had left in my bottle. 

I suppose this poem attempts to touch on a sort of moral duty of care before death, that even animals deserve grace and presence before they die. Out of all the poems I’ve written, this one definitely sticks out to me.