17 Dec 2016

Broken wing

It’s usually a feather,

a single silky feather, shed on the side of the road

not unusual or tragic, just a long elegant feather

with its magnificent precision and all it stands for:

freedom, hope, strength and compassion.  

But today I found a wing, a whole wing - Broken.

Perhaps, in my own despair, after walking so long

and searching so hard, I have magnified the tragedy.

But a wing, is not a feather.

Losing a feather is losing an eye lash, a strand of hair

Losing a wing is losing an arm. No! not losing an arm;

losing a wing is losing a heart.

A wing is a loss.

A tragedy. A life of crippling deprivation,

losing a wing is an end.

I wanted, in my despair, to lean on to a wall

my feet could not carry me

I wanted in my loneliness to fall to my knees

I wanted in my brokenness to plead to God, or curse him

there was a bird out there without its wing

and I understood.