Away

Summary

The web content is a free verse poem titled "Away," which reflects on the desire to escape and the struggle with feeling trapped and disconnected from one's former self.

Abstract

The poem "Away," shared for #Wingsweek, delves into the emotional journey of the speaker who yearns for the freedom of a bird to fly away from their current state of being. The speaker nostalgically reminisces about a time when they were more ethereal and free, akin to a faerie, but now feels submerged and unable to breathe under the metaphorical weight of water. The poem conveys a sense of loss and transformation, as the speaker no longer recognizes themselves, their wings now weathered and borrowed, a shadow of their former vibrancy. Despite the pain and the struggle to remember how to use these old, moth-eaten wings, there is an underlying resilience as the speaker attempts to reshape and reclaim them, suggesting a tentative hope for renewal and the possibility of taking flight once again.

Opinions

The speaker expresses a deep longing to escape their current reality, indicated by the quote from Jenny Curran in Forrest Gump.
There is a sense of regret and shame for the current state of the speaker's wings, which symbolize their ability to rise above their circumstances.
The speaker feels disconnected from their past self, having transitioned from a faerie to a fish, unable to breathe and weighed down by their environment.
The poem suggests that the speaker's wings, once vibrant and colorful, are now weathered and damaged, reflecting a loss of identity and vitality.
Despite the pain and the deterioration of their wings, the speaker acknowledges that these wings, though borrowed and worn, must suffice, indicating a reluctant acceptance of their situation.
The act of pressing the wings on the floor and smoothing them back into shape signifies an attempt to restore and heal, hinting at a subtle determination to overcome their challenges.

a free verse poem for #Wingsweek

Dear God, make me a bird so I can fly far, far away from here. — Jenny Curran, Forrest Gump

I don’t remember how these work. Unpack, unwrap, unfold.

I go through the motions, grounded, numbed stagnant, with tears where my sight used to be.

I don’t recall when I stopped being a faerie and started being a fish but I can’t breathe ‘neath the weight of all this water — the striders mock me, gliding along straight lines.

I think it is a shame. I think there is no more room in the sky for me.

oh God, it hurts

I press these old wings on the floor. I smooth the velvety finish, the curves, back into shape, filigree in places where color used to be.

I don’t remember so much gray.

They are weather-worn and borrowed, these wings, with the crumpled lacy edges, moth-mangled centers like eyes, wide-open for the wind to pass right through

aloft-no more, I think

Well, they must do.

Thank you for reading this poem for #Wingsweek. Here is the prompt.

POETRY

Away

a free verse poem for #Wingsweek