the little bird, to caitlin, with love

my lovely roommate caitlin leaves tomorrow, returning to haifa for a semester of academic study. She has a favorite Nigun (a chasidic song), called The Little Bird.

The little bird is calling
it wishes to return.
The little bird is wounded,
It cannot fly but yearn.

It's captured by the vultures,
Crying bitterly,
Oh, to see my nest again,
Oh, to be redeemed.

The little bird of silver,
So delicate and rare,
Still chirps amongst the vultures,
Outshining all that's there.

How long, how long it suffers,
How long will it be,
When will come the eagle,
And set the little bird free?

The little bird is Yisroel,
The vultures are our foes,
The painful wound is Golus,
Which we all feel and know.

The nest is Yerushalayim,
Where we yearn to be once more,
The eagle is Moshiach,
Whom we are waiting for.

When I was in Haifa on Thursday, after riding the cable car, I saw on the sidewalk a beautiful bird, it's wings splayed out to it's sides, very much alive, but clearly injured. I looked around for the first person I saw, and asked the man if he knew if there was someone we could call to help the poor creature. He said he didn't know, but while his wife, modestly dressed with a Hijab, and children waited, this man and I discussed what could be done for the bird. In the end, together we agreed that the best thing to do would be to move the bird to a less exposed place, and try to place some sustenance within reach. This episode made me think especially of my roommate and this Nigun she loves so much, and something seemed to poetic and beautiful about the fact that here was this actual injured bird, and the most that could be done for it was a collaboration between this man and me, him an Arab, a Muslim, me an American Jew.