Kyla Houbolt, "Freedom Find You"

I want to talk about love, panic, and language.

This looks like an unusual combination. But it started with this incredible line of Kyla Houbolt's: "you are my favorite bird though 'you' / is an unknown number." I like the idea of declaring a "favorite bird" when thinking about love. We've all got a favorite bird, right? Red cardinals are a delight, their form sleek, their color luxurious. Moreover, delight in birds is an "unknown number." Would many, one, or few be better? Who knows?

Freedom Find You (from the poet's Twitter)
Kyla Houbolt

you are my favorite bird though 'you'
is an unknown number. but that's
why of course. this bird of you unpredictable in
flight, its song otherworldly in beauty, discord,
both at once. flying in my window, it needs no
rescue. if I listen long enough, I begin
to know things I cannot say, not because
secret but because nobody has ever
thought of words for them, and that
task is beyond my skill. I listen
anyway. that learning is the only food.
this may be a love poem or a eulogy. please
be well.

So there's a favorite bird. A beloved. It is bountiful and numberless. It defies the simplest count.

This picture of love leans toward a feeling of endless giving. You give and you give and no one has to think. No one has to doubt. There's trust in every note. Just listen: "this bird of you unpredictable in / flight, its song otherworldly in beauty, discord, / both at once."

Love goes places, even when it doesn't mean to. The giving, the trusting, the bounty of one—all this we associate with building a home. Some believe that once you have a home, you never leave. Yet this bird is "unpredictable in / flight." I've always been a bit suspicious of couples who never go anywhere. There's nothing worth doing outside the house? Nowhere on earth to visit?

There's a motion inherent to love. And something more unpredictable, more difficult. A "song otherworldly in beauty, discord / both at once." I can deal with the motion, I like the idea of giving, but it is this—the combination of beauty and discord—where the panic hits. The "unknown number" is the problem. I can absolutely remember when I've forgotten to count. It wasn't just moments of bliss. There were the times I was humiliated, bullied, or severely overburdened. A lot of times I couldn't count because I didn't feel like anything counted.

To be sure, a bit of discord is fine. Mystery is good. But I don't know you build trust because you're brought beauty or hear the right utterances.

You build trust because you can act on what you're given and what results is good. This sounds obvious, but Houbolt's lyric affirms how strange it actually is:

if I listen long enough, I begin
to know things I cannot say, not because
secret but because nobody has ever
thought of words for them

You listen to the bird and you "begin to know things," but they have never been named. It's the existence of these sort of things which makes every newlywed couple so damn annoying. They found each other and made it work, so they know all the secrets. Good communication involves leaving notes on the fridge, healthy boundaries and regular check-ins do coincide, hey this person is right for you they've only been arrested for indecent exposure three times.

You know things you cannot say, "because nobody has ever / thought of words for them." What exactly are they? They could be mystical messages from a bird that's reached heaven, sure. But I imagine they're heightened awareness of how one's world works. You don't think of the words explaining why your sister dates a guy just like your father. Or why your child is exceptionally gentle after you've been gentle for years. You just know. The bird's song explodes in celebration, pointing to all the experiences that are also knowledge.

You want that knowledge. "[L]earning is the only food." Experience as knowledge is a product of love. It does defeat panic because it lets you act. You know you can make something good. The words for what's going on are there, because you're crafting them. They're not limited to one or two terms. They're your story.