If I Were a Bird

a poem about growing, courage, bravery, and flying

If I were a bird

my mama would have to push me out of the nest

or I would never learn to fly

or perhaps

she would have to burn the nest down

so that there was nothing left to hold me up

except the wind

the spirit blowing underneath

the beating of my fragile wings

Fire

to consume the current

comfort

clinging

customs

Fire

To fan the flame within

a flash

a flicker

a flare

a fiery flight

of

losing

learning

longing

loving

Too bad I am not a bird

Too bad learning to fly

is not like riding a bike

Flying is a lifetime of

nests burned

fires lit

winds stirred

and the beating of my fragile wings

in a rhythm of obedience and trust