Looking for sky

I am a bird in a box. 
There is no escaping the enclosure, 
no frantic amount of wings beating 
against cardboard that makes it give way. 
I thrash against paper walls, 
a crack in the lid, anything that will offer 
freedom from the diagnosis. Exhausted 
at times, I rest, 
heart pounding to blink
at light seeping in from corners. 

My Beloved is here, his the broken wing,
the mass growing just left of
his beating heart. 
Looking at the light together,
we move closer, merge feathers
murmur memories, our
love of sky before the box, 
our joy of each other
now.