The Wings I Use to Fly

When I was young, I knew how to fly

Until one morning, my mother and I

Sat down to cut my wings

And talk of imagination and other things

That were not real.

We picked up the feathers, and watched them disappear

As I learned of things I shouldn’t do and things that I must fear

“Ground yourself,” she said,

“Tame your heart and use your head.”

And with tiny thread, the wounds of no more flight were sealed

I forgot that once, when I was young, I knew how to fly

I held my shield with pride

As I tried to make my way, stumbling from side to side

Made friends with duty, found religion and in it the Almighty God

And built an armor of rules and orders

Around my heart I built a million borders

And like jewels I wore the do’s and don’ts

Until the chains reached into my bones

And I sat within my prison

Justifying to my heart the pain

In the name of blind, misguided reason

Then I grew older, and I knew

that I’d forgotten how to fly

And I whispered to my heart

that I remembered how we grew apart

And I let myself be weak and scream and cry

Until one day, my mother and I

Sat under a blooming tree

Weaving dreams into our wings to set us free.