Clipped Wings

A boy’s soft stroke

Became a man’s harsh touch

His forefinger and middle finger

Became a pair of poultry shears

Snip, snip

My budding wings, clipped

After my clipped wings heal,

I’ll let the corners of my mouth fly up again

After my clipped wings heal,

I’ll let my pen fly across the page again

After my clipped wings heal,

I’ll let food fly into my stomach again

What if the clipped wings never heal?

What if?

Let the wings stay damaged

I will learn to fly again

Taking my clipped wings along

I will learn to soar