When we were young,
With our wings aching
As they pressed against
The skin of our backs,
As our spines pulled and
Our bones torqued and bent
Under the weight of all we missed,
I remember we dreamt of flying.
Looking over the precipice,
Knowledge of the fall and
What comes at rock bottom
Still rushes through our minds.
But we were born on cloud nine,
Our senses were fed by the breath
Of the wind in our hair, our skin,
Our eyes blurred from tears pulled from us,
Wrapped and wracked with euphoria.
Our wings stretched
And our skin caved out.
Shining bright, bursting forth,
Wings craving flight and freedom.
Muscles unused and pulled taught
Reaching for the first time up and up,
And our bodies as full and light as balloons,
We spun down and down again.
And then, mechanical,
Blooming and dripping
Out from our rippling backs
Our toes kissed the dew drops
Forming along our ankles and calves
And the glinting feathers cupped the air,
Hands made for catching the impossible
And reflecting the burning of the sun up
Into the great yawn we dove into.
Our wings are knives
Cutting patterns from the sky,
Leaving pinprick holes in our wake,
Exposing the dusty light of the universe
To all the ones still looking up from below.
We streak across the sun-soaked sky,
And drag all of the various shades of color
Behind us; God's own paint brushes.
Far down below,
Where gravity has a say
And the crust of the old earth
Calls out like a great beast to us,
Awakened from deep slumber, shaking.
The earth cannot understand why we left;
It asks, with a voice of avalanches and treefall,
Why the dark soil wasn't enough for us.
Those we left behind
Watch as we trail our limbs
Dragging up and up to the blue.
The universe sighs into our lungs,
Bellows in a furnace, an ancient forge
Sculpting weapons from our ambitions.
If you see us falling, engulfed in flames,
Wish upon a shooting star.
If we are made
To fly, only to fall
Down from grace above,
As bombs instead of bodies,
Let's first use our wings to cut
Through the air, to rip the sky apart
And reach past those who came before us
To the galaxies far from our grasp.
We busted through
The film of atmosphere
Because we saw ourselves
Spinning barefoot in the hearts
Of stars, and we felt the powder-dust
Of the moon's pitted surface caked against
Our scuffed toes and blistered heels, dancing.
We scrape another galaxy into existence.
Turn your minds
Upwards towards the
Heavens above, I tell you,
Please don't look back just yet.
There is still time to follow the paths
Back to who we once were, if you want.
But let's fly a little longer, dipped in starlight,
Let children make wishes on our wings.
But Mother Earth calls her children back,
And home thrums steady drum-beats
While roots wind through our veins.
Reminding us of grass-stained days
And silhouetted twilight drowning
Out the light of the galaxy above;
Wings only carry us so far,
And, my dear, it is time
For us to land.
I hope you recognize the fragile beauty
That comes with dreaming of tragedy.
Watch streetlights steal the light
And listen to the electric stutter
Of an old television recording
Of that 1969 summer day.
We dreamt of flying
So we did.
