The Flight

Where have you carried me now,
Wings?
If I stay here, I will
Freeze,
If I leave, I will bear on my scarred face
For years
The haunting stamp of what I’ve
Seen;
And nobody will come
Close
To someone, whose eyes are home
To ghosts;
/
Much too far you have carried me,
Wings,
Much too close
To the other side;
Much too brave I have been
Where I should have been wise;
Now it’s too late to listen
To fear
Or to hope to survive
This flight

One Day

My lungs were gills once,

And my hands held swords;

My heart was small once,

And afraid of pain;

Unable to forgive or heal

Even a superficial cut,

It hid inside a cage

Without a key

/

My hair was short once

And my eyes were grey;

My wings were covered

With thick, heavy layers

Of dust and fears

Not to be shaken off,

So like a hunchback

I would walk half-bent;

/

I met the God of Time

One day, and this

He said to me:

‘Don’t be afraid:

‘Breathe in your days

With a full chest,

And drop the swords you hold –

For they will not protect

/

You from your enemy –

Yourself;

With your free hands

Release your heart and watch

The bruises disappear,

As love and courage grow;

Straighten your back

And use your gift – your wings

/

To soar higher

Than you believed you’d dare;

Time is too short –

I know of what I speak –

Let flow your hair of gold,

Let shine your silver eyes,

For when we meet again

I want

/

To see a woman,

Smiling,

When it’s time to say

Good-bye

And Love Each Step

You have been cruel

And I’ve been silly,

So we are equally to blame

For the wrongs of lying and believing,

For giving ours – and each other’s – words such meanings

As were convenient on certain days;

/

Your mouth would laugh

But not your heart, while

My eyes would smile

But not my lips:

Our feelings, all – misunderstandings,

Our paths – too different to the same home to lead

/

Forgiveness is

The longest journey,

So one must forgive readily;

You I can say good-bye to, but how to

Part with my own pathetic childishness,

At being weak – with so much shame and guilt?

/

All I can do is

Keep on moving: utter my words,

Regretting what I say; make friends,

Who may or may not be that to me;

And climb mountains of pain

To glowing summits – in my head

/

And love each step –

And have no fear of loving;

For there is nothing worse than being scared;

Nothing could hurt more

Than the angry words we’ve spoken,

Except the kind words which remain, and die, unsaid