Harming What You Love to Save the Rest

Lyrics

Line Islands.
The heat presses down like a hand.
In a waterproof bag, wedged between coral roots...
I found your notes.
Not yours. Hers. Bird Lover Betty's.

A bus ticket, dated 1998.
On the back, in blue pen: *You are my favorite view*.
A sugar packet from a diner near the airport.
Scribbled on it: *Still thinking about your laugh*.
A pressed sea-lavender, folded in wax paper.
*Found this and thought of your eyes*.
Little ambushes of kindness.
Left in a coat pocket.
Tucked inside her work gloves.
A life documented in things you were meant to find.

But at dawn, she'd pull on those same gloves.
The falcon, hooded on her wrist.
The propane cannon's concussion across the tarmac.
A sky full of wings she had to scatter.
A flight full of souls she had to save.
Can you harm the thing you love,
to keep the others safe?

The logbook entry, 05:30.
Runway 2-4 Left.
Sooty terns, flock of two hundred.
Dispersed with pyrotechnics.
She smelled of diesel and feather-dust.
She knew the decibels that sent a heart into panic.
She knew the shape of fear in the air.
And she made it, every morning.
For them. Not for the birds.

And at dawn, she'd pull on those same gloves.
The falcon, a feathered weapon on her wrist.
The propane cannon's hollow punch across the tarmac.
A sky full of life she had to break apart.
A flight full of strangers she had to save.
Can you harm the thing you love,
to keep the others safe?

And I imagine she collected every note you ever left her.
Read them one last time.
The gentlest inventory of her life.
And brought them here.
To the one place on earth the noise couldn't reach.
An offering.
An apology.
To the terns, to the gulls, to the sky itself.

Here on the atoll, the air is thick with wings.
The notes are turning soft in the salt spray.
*You are my favorite view*.
A falcon's bell, a silent cry.
The question just hangs in the heat.
Who do you save?