A Sad Poem to Match the Weather: Poetry Gong #14

Some of Us Are Lucky Enough to Fly


I thought of birds and
their luck, how they rise…
- Karen Chase

When you said I was sad
I didn’t speak. The voice
I had been using all these years
had flown
out of the room.

Behind the feathers
I was a bird.
You didn’t see
because you were speaking
setting down in syllables
that which I know
that which I see
that which has eluded
me all along.

The sad girl is flying
now, winged, not free
enough to build a nest
but catching enough air
to call out.

*******************************************************************************

I could write more, but really, I hate sad poems. Maybe after the gong, I will revisit this. Think more about birds, becoming a bird, flying like a bird, dreaming of flying, growing feathers, replacing my heavy bones with tiny, hollow bones, choosing what kind of bird I want to be, researching what type of birds do not mate for life.