Of Wings

Winged things
are meant to fly,
like birds, and planes,
and dragonflies…
angels…

I had dreams once –
winged creatures
who soared
limitless skies…
free…

Until fear –
a cruel master –
caged my heart,
clipped my spirit…
broken…

Age and loss
turned the page,
locks illusions
unravelled…
escape…

Vulnerable,
I walk, remember
wings, lift my face
to inclement  weather…
fly…

(Written in response to Willow Poetry’s weekly challenge:  What do you See?)

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24 comments

  1. This really resonates with me, V.J. My wings have been clipped also, but I try to soar whenever the opportunity presents itself. Maybe not physically, but in my imagination and joy of photography. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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