I am there when they fall from grace,
I helped them build their wings of wax and feather.
I mapped the skies and charted the stars,
I watched for clouds and studied the weather.
I told them exactly where to spread their wings to remain in the sky.
Somehow my words became silly to them,
and they made up their minds about where to fly.
I’m only strong enough to carry myself along,
I cannot carry someone else
who conflated being louder as being strong.
I can only stand and watch them fall from grace,
knowing I gave them the best advice I knew,
and never stepped out of my place.
I helped them find a place in the sunlight,
where it wouldn’t melt their wings.
Yet they flew right to the sun and fell from their flight.
About the Creator
Josey Pickering
Autistic, non-binary, queer horror nerd with a lot to say.
Comments (3)
I get the helplessness that the voice of the poem feels here.
Gorgeous! Your words make me feel like I could fly clear through a hurricane on your waxen wings
Thoughtful and engaging. Well done