Tuesday, September 6, 2016


I consume the many miles blindly,
I know not, I feel not;
a young woman of a fuzzy mind,
an almost crushed spirit—
of sullen air.

Blown from East to West,
brought here by the winds,
I travel over water.
The ocean blurring beneath me
as I spear through the air head first,
pointing at the furthest land.

A frail and frightened creature,
caged as I am;
caged and airless in this new land.
I remain.
Year and another year.
And hope is much like a broken
television; turned on,
the dim screen fails 
to produce an image
of any clarity.
Peering into the dim monitor,
year and another year,
I remain.

My wings gain strength,
by and by, until they grow
large enough to break through bars.
I tiptoe into new air.
Into crisp air.
Open air. 
I begin to breathe;
small swigs at first,
deeper gulps at last.

In this new land. 
In this new air.


  1. But why would she remain, caged and airless as she is, year and another year, in a land which is forever new to her? (No answer is expected.)

  2. Perhaps it was the only place that could have enabled her to safely grow wings.