Sunday, June 04, 2006

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
But, sooner than later a
cutting tongue armed with
sharp words
slices through a fragile
No muscular strength has
the power of those sounds.
Those words.

Broken wings.
Severed bliss.
Grounded joy.
Copyright 2006 Karen

1 comment:

Bar Bar A said...

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.