Wings (or the lack thereof)

I sat there chained to the floor,

The room dull and depressing

My wings freshly shorn

And I cried,

“How can one who loves me so tear my wings?”

“My wings all vari-hued and full-feathered”

And I wailed until I slept again

Chained to the floor.

 

Then I heard the door creak,

My father came in again with more tomes for me to read

“It’s for your own good” he says with that strange look in his eyes

He leaves my chains on and turns to my dying wings with another strange look in his eyes.

I think it must be jealousy,

You see I’ve seen pictures of his wings in his prime –

His dazzling shows and the light that whizzed by as he danced

At the airshow where he met mother

I cry again, as he edges out of the room

I miss mother, if she were here she’d have none of this

I grudgingly open the first tome and I read

For father always knows when I don’t

Through my tears I read tome after tome

Saving the knowledge for when father would ask me

Chained to floor.

 

Somewhere between the third and fourth tome,

I began to feel strange, new ideas flowed through me and I began to dream

My father had sought to punish me but I felt so much light

I had the solutions to some problems, some great ideas

I thought to myself if I just pushed a little more,

I could be free of these chains and help others too

I could end the hatred my father felt for me

And then I felt my wings grow alarmingly fast

And I could see the color just outside the glass

I tested out my wings until I felt strong enough and I pushed hard

The chain slipped off my neck and arms and I shot through the glass to bathe in the warm sun.

 

My wings were much more beautiful than before they were gone

Quite like –

My father’s with a little hint of translucence like my mother’s

I looked back down at the house I had shot out from –

My dull, grey prison.

And what I found surprised me –

First, the room full of color and rich fabric and life

Second my father with his old wings and arms folded smiling up at me

Third was the chain that held me down lying on the floor

Connected to nothing.

 

 

I think this poem/story thingy came from sad news that my baby cousin was hospitalized for depression and placed on suicide watch. I haven’t met her as we live on different continents but I love her all the same. 

I don’t think it’s anything to poke fun at but I wonder if we realize that sometimes when we feel like the world is working against us, that some of that world truly have our best interests at heart. It is hard to see the bloom in the gloom though…… Let’s remember to love each other and listen out for those silent cries for help – be the change you want to see in everyone else and encourage them to pay it forward.

Teardrops and moonshine,

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About Jade

artist, architect, lover of music and gadgets.....

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