Image

fly, love

the little bird stood at the edge of the nest

looking out over the trees

looking into the hazy yellows

and oranges

and purples

and blues

that colored the soft sky

looking into himself

for the courage to finally do it –

to close his eyes

fall into the wind

and rise, breathe,

rise

on sovereign wings,

to join his heroes

in shameless joy

and epic glory,

looking, desperately looking,

because it was just here,

it was literally just here,

i felt it;

the little bird turned his back to the wilting sun

and returned to his life,

all the while thinking how next time

would be the time,

all the while thinking how next time

he would not be afraid;

the little bird was asked to fly much too soon,

forced to face a storm on weak wings,

expected to fight with a frantic plea to the firmament,

don’t cry,

fear

pain

love

betrayal,

and then he was asked again,

this time for real,

to take off,

to dance on the air,

to skate across the sherbet horizons,

to shape the clouds

and create cities of light,

and so he jumped,

and he fell

until he could fall no more,

and it hurt more than he could bear,

it still hurts,

now, it’s just there;

the little bird grew into a fierce lover,

a noble friend,

a playful spirit,

a coward who defended his fears

as the products of reason,

and a citizen of a world

without faith,

without hope;

the little bird studied the familiar notches

as he slowly made his way to the place that was no longer

enemy nor friend,

a cool early morning offered no greeting

as the little bird stood

where tree and air met,

as the little bird watched the heating mist

rise and swim

amid shafts of glowing ember,

he heard wings,

he saw the arms of his father,

his sister,

his closest friends

and dearest partners,

a symphony of all the souls that were in some way

part of his life,

a song of peace

sung by fading memories,

he wanted to fly among them

and embrace the magnificence

of life,

of a shared history

of blood and sacrifice,

he was ready to let soar

the beautiful warrior who waited

a lifetime to unfurl his flight,

the little bird turned his back to the blooming sun

and returned to his life,

all the while knowing –

i sail the winds

of others’ might.

-j

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