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Angel
I am a
one-winged angel—
You are my Other.
You help me see
from a different
perspective:
from above,
the greater things are small.
Being with you—
is all.
You reflect my name.
My Dreams
are a mirage—
the sunlight,
too bright.
A side of me is unsure
and is still touching
the ground.
A crooked
and failed
take-off.
I’d like to take off
as much as I can.
Shake, quivering.
The silence is cold.
And I can’t stand it.
I ache to be gliding
with no reason
to return.
A sewn wing,
air flowing
through the stitches,
undulating,
floating on a breath.
Who am I to dream such dreams?
Fragile as they are.
Is it a privilege,
or a right?
Must I escape?
Run away
to feel free
of what I bring with me?
Feathers tethered, worn.
The ages defy me.
Time exposes
the depth of my frustration
with the world.
Why is it
so hard
to breathe?
The stitches are inflamed.
I am a half-phoenix,
surviving solely on perseverance.
Determination.
Dreams—
that one day
I will be fully mended
or be able
to take that patch-quilt
of a wing
and let it
carry me,
like a sail
in the wind.
----------------------------------------
Lore
It feels like
we are still in the honeymoon phase;
Who wouldn’t want one
this long?
And he is still gooey sweet,
his light
highlights mine.
The world is immensely
promising.
In travel, I am invisibly
safe.
Padding makes the world
seamless.
Nothing to trip over.
If we fumble,
we stabilize each other.
Never have I known such
magic.
Thought it was folklore.
When everyone said
I would “find” someone,
doubt was my only companion.
And fear that I would be
the exception.
My mind conjures up
ideas I never considered
before—
moving cross-country.
Because wherever we are,
I am home.
Am I the exception?
Did I get lucky?
Or did everyone know this
could be,
before me?
I am the moon
that reflects the light
of the other,
and makes it her own.
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