Clipped Wings...
We walk our journey
yet we want to fly....
so we sprout delicate, ethereal wings.
Tentative, like a caterpillar just out of
a cocoon, we flex and stretch.
Joyous abandonment!
We spread our wings
in the sunshine,
their newness dries and then
shines in the rays of
Light.
But, sooner than later a
cutting tongue armed with
sharp words
slices through a fragile
wing.
No muscular strength has
the power of those sounds.
Those words.
Broken wings.
Severed bliss.
Grounded joy.
Copyright 2006 Karen
1 comment:
Karen, this is a great poem and post! I am sorry for your angel wing but it was good to be reminded of what our words can do. Thank you.
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