Fly

She sits on the edge of rugged cliffs
Her legs dangle o’er the rocky face
The wind plays with her silken hair
And tugs at her dress of velvet and lace.

In the quiet evening hours
Against the sky a silhouette 
A soul as trapped as doves encaged
Stares off toward the sun that sets. 

With heart forlorn she gazes ‘round 
At valleys spread before her eyes
With sad frustration and regret
She thinks of what could be and sighs.

All those who see her sitting there
Don’t understand the mournful sight
For behind her, gently folded
Are two majestic wings of white.

But yet she looks out over cliffs
And views the world from peaks and hills
Wishing she might soar on winds
And see the sights and feel the thrills.

Her wings—they aren’t hurt or broken
But yet they’ve never flown. Oh why?
Her feathers by the sun unkissed
The world, it wonders, can’t she fly?

An angel meant to reach great heights
To find and see such wondrous things
Oh, she was meant to touch the sky
For she was born with two strong wings.

No one knows of unseen shackles
That her form confine to earth 
No one feels her weary heart
That’s yearned for freedom since her birth.

She waits to be set free someday 
From the tenacious chains of fear
That her wings and spirit cripple
And firmly hold her captive here. 

If only she would spread her wings
If only she would simply try
She’d find how foolish were her fears
For she was born with wings to fly.

Instead she clings to ground and ledge
Though freedom’s at her fingertips
The sights, the heights, the best of life
The gate of fear it all restricts.

You and I, we all like her
Were born with our own set of wings
Yet many times they’re clipped and damaged
By doubts and fears and other things.

You and I, we all must learn
That if we want to reach great heights
Attain what seems beyond our reach
And see ahead a future bright
We must dare to leave the comfort
The seeming safety of the cliffs
And spread our wings and just take flight.

We cannot live all our life
Imprisoned by our crippling fears
God gave us wings to touch the sky
And not a seat to sit out years
So let the feathers of your wings
Feel the winds breathe softly through
And fly from peaks to lovely blue
‘Cause it’s what you and it’s what I 
It’s what we all were meant to do.

Yusita

~ "Change the world with your pen. Touch souls with your words, and awaken cold, slumbering hearts with the warm, powerful rays of poetry." -Yusita

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