poetry

Wings: A Song of Innocence, of Hope and Faith. {poetry}

 

I wrote this as a response to the growing knowledge of how the pandemic is affecting everyone — your family, my family, friends and enemies alike.

In a world wanting change, this is the change we needed. We needed to be forced to look at ourselves. Hallelujah.

Whatever definition you put to what has occurred during the last year, let that belong to you. No one else. We are forced to take responsibility for all of these things. For ourselves, our children, our parenting, our parents, our education, our systems, the collective.

How did you do? How are you doing? How are you doing this?

Wings

She landed upon the earth
It wasn’t a quiet landing, it wasn’t planned
It was loud and disruptive
It begged the question :
Why are you here?

But she had no voice to answer
Her song was muffled, and the noise around her was loud
No one around could decipher the purpose
What was this thing?
Why had it arrived?

She was weary
She laid her head heavy on the concrete
Her large bold wings tattered, worn, darkened
She came from another world
Each feather represented something sacred
Love, hope, faith, commitment, honesty, trust, beauty

As she lay there, she waited for no one
But herself
As she lay there,
The swarm came
Investigating the creature

Some grabbed a feather,
The feather wasn’t for them
For together, only in unison, would it create the ability to fly
But they poked, and they stabbed
They raped and savagely took from all that was her

But she stayed still, as she knew in stillness there would be peace
While they plucked, barraged, cornered
They spat at her, spewing the ignorance of filth
while at the same time guarding themselves
Her heart she protected with her torn wings
Covering it
It still was visible, and when they looked they saw
It was a mirror to themselves
They looked deeply at themselves, shamefully
What they had wasted
Some were saddened
Others became blaming, aggressive
Who had they become?

This was no fairy tale, no happy ending
The creature had no happy ending
Nor did those preying upon her
However, there was time
It was in the distance
A song lifted through all the threads of existence
And she began to sing
A song of innocence, of hope and faith, the song of children they once knew
They recollected it as her heart song, and she refused. “No, it’s your heart song,” she whispered
Home, whistling, crying
The tears echoed the song

She moved slowly and deliberately,
Lifting one bereft wing at a time
The glow of all the goodness that had ever been
Shone on her as the mirror shone back
She stood,
They sang
She flew
This mystical creature
Had become a symbol
Of re-creation
And all that had always been theirs

She wasn’t to return
Her wings lifted her far beyond anything comprehensible
With the human eye
She was made of the soul
She existed to show fools and faithful alike, this
And this in itself was enough
The humanity, the choices, the song
It was this
And they had to answer it for themselves.

***

Jodi WiumJodi Wium is a depth psychologist studying the work of Jung at Pacifica Graduate Institute. Through life and loss, she has learned where her heart belongs, and hopes — through her writing and her research — you do as well. Namaste.

***

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