Unencumbered by Delight

You gleefully showed me the empty nest,
And pointed down, towards the unyielding ground,
And told me that the robin made a sound
Like weeping, flowing from its bright red breast,
And also said you thought it for the best.
You criticized my feelings when I frowned,
And told me love was better all around
When unencumbered by delight, or zest.

I can’t ignore you, and I won’t embellish;
I wonder why you claimed the dead bird sings,
In spite of dying quickly. Watch its wings:
What you did here was altogether hellish.
Your decision — to embrace with relish
These tortures, these abuses — it still stings.