Fly

I stand at my nest.

It has been years since I left.

Mother has squawked about the risks,

About no one helping me.

“I could fall, I could get hurt, and I could break something.”

I want to get out.

I even think about sneaking out at night,

But my conscience acts as my mom’s spy.

Giving me guilt of the hunters down below.

So I stay in my nest.

Letting myself get heavy, while all my brothers fly away.

One day, I sit in my nest alone.

My family is nowhere in sight.

I cannot stand the loneliness,

I cannot stand the boredom.

So I ignore mom’s spy and leave my nest for the day.

So I stand at the branch,

I give a running start, with my wings open.

And I leap.

What is this?

Am I off the ground?  Who is holding me?

Who cares!

I feel free!

I lert the wind guide my body around.

I dance with God and listen to him talk.

There is fear, but with it comes control.

I command myself, but the wind holds my wings.

When I see trouble I know how to avoid it.

Reality is not hell, it is a pallet,

Painted by fate, uncontrolled by me.

But I know when to stop as I head back to the nest.

My mom maybe mad, but like it or not,

Even little ones must leave their nest.