< - back to writing

The Chick

When Sight was seen and the shell’d been cracked but the membrane still remained,
The chick peered through translucent comfort
To wonder what had done it.

And as white shards began to fall
And the new one stretched her wings,
The world she saw was fragile: reality gossamer thin.

And the stories she had told herself to soothe herself to sleep
Rushed back at once to forefront
And everything made sense.

Hope abundant, gung-ho girl stood up to jump the nest,
But feathers undeveloped do not lend themselves to flight.
And the ones she hoped might watch her soar
Worried themselves to sickness.

So back she stepped into the twigs and the remnants of her shroud
To pick them up and again construct what she’d long dreamt to escape.

But once you’ve felt the sunlight touch the skin upon your face
And sucked deep the sweet air of freedom,
The knowledge remains and nothing can ever be the same.

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