Mending a Broken Wing


Broken wing on the mend.

Grounded in this land.

Staring at an empty sky,

looking for a place to stand.

This doesn’t seem like the same place.

These don’t seem like the same kind.

they’re all wearing the same face

and speaking with the same mind.


They all used to yearn

for the sky,

and tell each other stories

of our kind.

Now, here I am,

standing plain as day

and they all look afraid.


Who taught them fear,

and struck them dumb?

Who clipped their wings

and cut the tongues?

Who took their minds

and bound their souls?

Who put them under their control?


Such a fiercely curious

and untameable species,

now cowed by some treatise,

some threat, some fist,

some lie.

How can I help them remember the sky?


Broken wing healed again.

Stranger in a stranger land.

Soon to take to wind and flight,

the people fight for a place to stand.

Descending into chaos, now.

No hope of getting out.

They have made a charnel house

out of this paradise.


Thick smoke will fill the sky,

blocking out the light

and in the darkness of their minds

they will commit atrocities

in the name

of whatever god

has given them

something to fear.


I’ve watched this happen before.


and apocalypse

tips the scales

and blood drips

upon the floor.


Open wings and fly.

one look,

one last good-bye.

Up into the blue

that used to be

a place of hope.


I’m up here all alone.



HG – 2022

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