When we were children, our hearts sang of freedom. We could feel it in our bones, hear it in our laughter, and taste the dreams and possibilities on our tongues. The world was new, spring green, and flowering. We thought maybe one day we would fly.
None of us get to hold onto that completely. For some of us, it was far too short lived. And still more of us never got to experience that freedom at all.
That is the sorrow of this world. That is our shared grief.
And now our bones have grown brittle; our bodies too burdened for flight. At least that is our shared belief: that survival is our only dream and anything else is naive.
Written 6/6/2021
None of us get to hold onto that completely. For some of us, it was far too short lived. And still more of us never got to experience that freedom at all.
That is the sorrow of this world. That is our shared grief.
And now our bones have grown brittle; our bodies too burdened for flight. At least that is our shared belief: that survival is our only dream and anything else is naive.
Written 6/6/2021
