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once i dreamt i was a savior
October 20, 2021
the world—my world—sits in my hands
nestled, a baby bird
rescued from the uncaring tree
beautiful and hopeful
oh,
a broken wing.
my world is everything
to me
everyone says so
it has spent a year in my home
i have yet to give it a name
once i do, it’s mine, isn’t it?
my world is so innocent
so fragile
so inconsequential
i think i’ll give it back to the tree
oh,
the broken wing.
© MacMillan
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A poem inspired by how I feel about my future as I approach college applications.