Wounded Eagle


I jump.
Absurd.
Do you think an eagle should jump?
I jump again.

How tall these trees appear to be,
even the grass clings to my claws.
I make a somersault.

My friend stands beside me.
How proud he looks like
in all his power,
in all his freedom
ready to soar whenever he wants.

I do not envy him.
I know one day I will soar with him,
I will proudly spread my wings,
feeling the power within me
that lifts me up to the sky.

Flap.
Nothing happens.
Aside from my wings hurting,
aside from the pain in my heart.

I can not let go of myself:
I have to feel the pain,
to go through this terrible process of exercise.

One day I will see
what I only remember now;
How small the trees look like,
how far I can see,
how I just spread my wings
and rest in the air,
carried by the wind.



Facing Self

[an error occurred while processing this directive]