Wings II

The moment was a waterfall,

rushing over her with the coolness of clarity,

the refreshment of spring in it's liquid embrace.

She was enough, she knew.

Imperfect body, imperfect soul.

Even her heart, with it's many flaws,

was perfect in it's humanity.

Perfection surrounded her,

she was perfectly her.

The scars she thought were burdens,

had blossomed into wings more true,

silver feathered with mites of sky blue,

perfect in asymmetrical wonder.

Now, she thought, i can test them again,

i can see if i can fly.

Looking down one last time for purchase at the earth,

she realized she was already soaring high.


Previous     Next

Back to the Poetry Page

Back to the Index


1