I am alone
on the fringes of gathering
watching others sing
unable to speak
Like a bird beating wings
and beak on glass
the barrier is felt
even when it does not
exist for them
Lies whisper grains of truth
enough to be believed

Watch them all go
sailing confidently
against wind and rain
by past sins, old cruelty
No twist in the gut holds them
or tells them they cannot fly
I cannot hear
the song they bring
with myriad voices rising
in joyous cacophony

In the chop and sky wake
left behind
I seek their patterns
trace the memory
of the softness of wings
like gossamer
jeweled with dew
They gather, then depart
their seasons turn
as mine remain
lost in the gathering dark

~ ~ ~

© W.R.R. 6/17/2013
For all survivors of any form of rape or abuse; you are not alone. Speak out. Find your path to healing.

About W.R.R.

Bipolar & survivor of incest/child sex abuse and adult male rape; bisexual, polyamorist, poet/writer/advocate & married father of four. View all posts by W.R.R.

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