Flight
Dear Diary,
You already told me
that I can fly.
The breathless beach day sky beckons
but the wings are not ready.
Impatience chafes
as the wings are dressed and redressed again,
fitted and groomed for distance flight,
not for short sprints.
Wings of strength and force
must be honed
to arc and soar instead of to flit and flutter.
You already showed me
that I can fall.
Stranded on the earth
until muscle and feather are reconstructed,
better equipped for future flights.
You will not enlighten me
where I will go or what it will take to get there.
But you have prepared me to fall and to fly,
to embrace the cycle
with fully extended wings.
To leap further than before
without reservation,
into the extraordinary blue.
Dear Diary .... by Kellianne Sweeney 