A wanderer's wings | Teen Ink

A wanderer's wings

January 16, 2011
By Aredhel PLATINUM, Lynnwood, Washington
Aredhel PLATINUM, Lynnwood, Washington
29 articles 0 photos 13 comments

I fold my shameful wings

and pray that no one may see what I hide.

Dark stains taint the purity that was.

Wings hurl, averse to savage winds,

which change wings to a form

torn and aged by ceaseless use.

They do not return unscathed by storms;

wet salt lies upon what once was dry.

I mourn immaculate dove-white wings

which have been altered to a wanderer’s feathers,

because I know their fate;

to be submerged yet again by torrents

which rise against me.

The wanderer seeks but she does not find.

Her wings beat against the forces

that would thrust her back,

unlike the dove who was her,

who glided in fair weather and

knew not her doom.

The first harsh wind that blew

tore her more than all that will be.

The first wind sundered her from refuge

exposed her to foreign wreck,

which she thought she could not withstand.

yet she flew,

and flies gallantly through storms in which

she must wander.

Still, I pray for smiles

so that no one will perceive

a wanderer’s wings.

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