Birds Of A Feather

By and for Bird-People

Wings

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Wings are a tension

In your shoulders you can’t relieve.

They are an itch like no other.

 

Wings are a weight

You can never have lifted.

That will never lift you.

 

Wings are the space

On your body that can’t be filled.

That creates a void within.

 

Wings are a burn

That calls for action.

And leaves you paralyzed with yearning.

 

Wings are missing limbs

That you never had.

As crucial as a heartbeat.

 

Wings are what I can never have.

Wings are what I need.

 

——-

My, my, my, I seem to have a thing going for free-form at the moment. Apologies for all lovers of more traditional poetry.

Author: Acies

A fledgling eaglet [read 19] who has been involved in the therian community since late 2008. I have an interest in attempting to put the language of the sky and feathers into something others are able to understand and maybe even relate to. I identify as a Little Eagle with some passing dreams of genetic grandeur who likes to get out and about in the bush, climb trees and perch on cliff faces.

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