Poetry:  Flight

Flight

I, the unhatched, still sit in the clutch,

Never I stir, or at least not by much,

I know not even what flying is,

I, now the fledgling, huddle with siblings,

Fed by elders, protected from misgivings,

I know not why, I’d ever care to fly,

My wings, they have since grown,

And flight’s virtues have been shown,

Yet I stay, now, afraid to fly,

Now, no more time in the nest shall I spend,

The nest has been strewn by a violent, sudden wind,

I am now falling, and still I fear flight,

The fall isn’t long, as earth rushes up to meet,

I know such an impact would be too much for my feet,

My hope, small and grim, resides now in flight,

The wind, the fall, the shock of them all,

Makes me spread virgin wings, and slow down my fall,

But earth, not sky awaits, should I hesitate to fly,

My wings start, they flap and they flutter,

I give it my all, as much as I can muster,

If I don’t fly now, I know that I’ll never,

My descent is now halted, I begin to rise,

Now, this phobia beaten, withers and dies,