A wanderer's wings

Submitted by Kathleen on Sun, 01/16/2011 - 21:44

I fold my shameful wings

and pray that no one may see

what I hide.

 Dark stains taint the purity of what was.

  Wings hurl, averse to savage winds,

  which change wings to a form

  worn and aged by endless use.

  They do not return unscathed by storms;

   wet salt is thrown against what was dry.

  I mourn immaculate dove-white wings

  which have been altered to a wanderer's feathers,

  because I know their fate;


    to  be submerged yet again by torrents

    which rise against me.

   The wanderer seeks but she does not find.

    Her wings beat against the powers

    that would thrust her back.

    Tis unlike when she was a dove,

    who glided in fair weather

    and knew not her doom.


    The first harsh wind that blew

    tore her more than all that will be.

    The first wind sundered her from refuge,

     exposed her to foreign wreck,

     which she thought she could not withstand,

      yet she flew,

     and flies gallantly through storms in which

     she must wander.

     Still, I pray for smiles so that no one will percieve

      a wanderer's wings.






Author's age when written


Sometimes, it seems like the speaker likes being a wanderer.  Very good; slightly mournful, but well done nonetheless.  (Besides, who am I to be speaking of mournful?)

"I always wonder why birds stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere on the earth. Then I ask myself the same question." - Harun Yahya

Wow. I would love to paint that on a wall in big, swirly letters, and I could spin around the room and read it on the edges. And then I'd paint what I think this person looks like... Fragile and enduring.

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief

This was excellent! I thought the wording was amazing. Felt calmly heart-renching. Calmly heart-renching? I felt like I'd just cried my heart out for 2 hours, slept for another 3, and had just woken up. Great job! Keep it up!

The most astonishing thing about miracles is that they happen.
-G. K. Chesterton

I love how you strung your words together to make harmony on paper!

It was, I have to admit, confusing for me to understand, what exactly you were talking about! But I guess that's another good feature to this poem. The reader can imagine their own image of whats going on! At first I thought you were talking about an Angel that had sinned or something, then I thought of a dove with a broken wing in a storm... then I didn't know what was going on! LOL!

Well done and worded and put!

I love the feeling of reading it!

Great job!

Write on!

"Here's looking at you, Kid"
Write On!