That Mockingbird Won't Sing

When I was small

I saw the world with stars in my eyes.

Flower petals danced in the wind

and sunsets kissed the earth beneath my feet.

When I was small, black was the color of the pavement

before I painted it with lions with lopsided ears.

I did not know how heavily it weighed on Kellie.

How the weight was inherited by her daughters.

And why no one else cared to acknowledge it.

When I was small

I only knew how to love.

By the age of six I became fluent in benevolence.

In the fleeting moment I dared to speak with acid,

my tongue would betray me.

When I was small

I had wings in my chest

that could stretch to the ends of the horizon,

and with a single bound

I could touch the stars.

Every night they cradled me.

Tucked away in their feather softness,

they told me I was somebody.

When I was small

I grew with pride,

And I couldn’t wait to see what else

this beautiful world had to show me.

For surely my wings could take me there.

Yet as I grew taller

the stars grew dimmer.

My wings grew smaller.

Since I've grown

I have learned words of hate,

the balderdash of the Bigots,

and the anthems of anxiety.

Two have branded my tongue.

And no bar of soap is big enough

to erase the acid stains I spoke.

Since I've grown

Celebration became a stranger.

Sugar filled frosting and decorated cakes

left me with a nagging aftertaste.

I’d grab another slice

hoping the rainbow frosting

would stain my insides-

Turn them into brilliant hues

of orange and purple and blue.

because maybe then I’d feel beautiful, too.

I can’t remember when

my wings didn’t ache.

On a good day I could take that leap of faith.

My toes would kiss the pavement, and I could soar beyond the trees.

But the next day I would wake with cricks in my wings.

And I could barely pick myself up

off

of my

bedroom

floor.

I’ve had my heart broken and mended

more times than I care to count.

I have climbed the corporate ladder

and stood on the Cliffs of Moher

I received an email

“Congratulations Fulbright Applicant”

and I felt my finger reach

for the delete button.

I’m reading this word

‘congratulations’

like it’s supposed to mean something.

Waiting for the excitement to kick in,

but it never comes.

Waiting for my wings to tell me to go for it!

To tell me I am somebody!

But they are silent.

I missed the application deadline.

I missed my senior prom.

I missed living in a college dorm-

I missed living!

I missed life!

because my wings were too sore to stretch to my fingertips and fly

For just

one

more

day.