She held life in her
hands
as if it were a delicate eggshell.
Ready to break with a
gust of wind.
It was wearing blue like the sky
when really, she wanted to fly.
The life she nurtured weighted her down,
chained her with
mouths to be fed,
hands to hold.
Its vulnerability gave it power
Its sweet sounds have it a voice
But really, she wanted to fly.
Holding her own life in her hands
the night she decided to jump
from her nest.
She fell pinned to the ground,
cradling blue in
her hands.
Great poem, One thing I would work though is showing not telling in the first stanza and the first part of the second stanza.
ReplyDeleteI really like the imagry of the poem and the way you repeated
"but really, she wanted to fly"
that definately worked for me.
I love the the two last stanzas and the use of the color blue.
It was a brilliant way to end the poem.