Commentary and Philosophy Poetry posted February 7, 2016

This work has reached the exceptional level
free verse

Take These Broken Wings

by michaelcahill


Take These Broken Wings

there are those
born to flight
windswept as surely
as a breeze itself is what it is
a birth where the chord
is a kite string
held by sure hands
guiding ever guiding
with a caution for every eddy in the sky

the fluid--a warm bath
to be gently removed from
and dried tenderly
each new breath
each sound
praised for its cleverness

one day the string is snipped
and the flight continues
always observed,
someone always with an eye out
always there with arms outstretched
always a place to land

wings of perfection and grace
directing the wind
commanding the Earth
to attention
while galaxies bow

then there are those
born to flight
who are cheated
and greeted by a gale
their chord
a noose that chokes
and drags them down

cast back upon the sea
they struggle for air
where they once breathed

but somehow
they survive

the hand that should
guide the string
strikes them down
but they rise

the sea becomes
a place to drown
a place to twist
a cherished memory
of a forgotten promise

they have no wings

they know of wings
having seen them high--
high up there where
they dare not go,
or so they are cautioned

they are not welcome
they are not worthy
destiny itself forbids
...they are told

still they look up
and dream of flight
and the dream
seems true
and real

those who should love them
hate them
and mock their dreams
calling them
for the feeble minded

some begin to build wings
compelled even though
deafened by the laughter
of a thousand demons,
familiar demons
mothers and fathers
sisters and brothers
spokesmen of gods
holy entrepreneurs
and provocateurs

a little girl
 roams the beach
seashells where life once dwelt
and the story it tells,
a wooden plank
perhaps from a ship
lost at sea--
who might have sailed
on that fateful day,
a sand dollar
filled with riches
and tales to tell
a starfish

wings form
from what is gathered
but they are not beautiful
they are not sewn of lilies and gossamer
the sight of their cumbersome weight
delight those who would
ground her forever

but no one is of the ground
never were
she slowly rises
even though a thousand hands
pull at her
she rises

she looks up,
a million miles up
up there
where those with wings
fly with ease

she rises

as time passes
she looks down
at those she sought to join
they are content
to fly where they fly
they have limits
she never learned
of limits

she looks
past those content to fly
all the way back down
to where she started 

 a child cries on the beach
a child without wings
she swoops down
and scoops her up
her weight is but
another feather
they fly together

the world watches
and the world

the entire world



Poem of the Month contest entry


Inspired by the beautiful piece SIBYLS by gloria ...

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