Wings

a poem

Photo by Vicky Yu on Unsplash

I never knew before
that I was meant to fly
Flying was for the birds,
the bees, kites, airplanes, and helicopters

I should remain grounded
One foot chained to an even track
a rail that keeps you
on the guided tour
at the museum

The chain pulls
the track moves under my feet
as soon as I want to stop
and take a closer look at what’s interesting
the track moves

Come along
stay with the group

And I trip a bit
grab hold of the balance bar
and keep moving
one foot sliding with the track
the other you pick up and put down
involuntarily

Everyone blends, like watercolor
Blues to pinks to purples to red
abstract faces with no features
And I am pulling like a child’s stick figure drawing
in bold black marker