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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 17748
Category:
healing
Posted: November 10th. 2005 11:45:05 AM
Views: 591 |
Flying Again
by LexiAngel
Age Group: Adult
It’s nine o’clock Monday night, and I have a paper due tomorrow. I need to fill six pages with comments on the wonder that was Shakespeare and I have yet to even open my book. My mind is spinning and my heart is aflutter, the usual symptoms of budding love, I know. The funny thing is, there’s no man, only life at the source of all this. It’s crazy really, how for twenty years of my life I got away without breathing. And now, after the furious downward spiral, after slamming hard against the cold ground, I breathe for the very first time.
We’ve all heard that timeless adage: “Whenever one door closes, another opens.” Well, for the past month or so, it seemed as if I was standing in a room with a hundred open doors, and each time I would take a hesitant step towards one it would slam shut. When every door closes just as you’re walking through, how do you fight paralysis? How do you keep from becoming too scared to move, for fear of being hurt? I didn’t know, and the paralysis set in. Truth is, I laid myself to rest long before October came and went, hidden away in a glass coffin, watching the wheel turn on, and waiting for some prince to wake me with a kiss.
The princes came and went, and I thought that in the short moments I spent in love with them that I was awake again. I thought that I was the girl I was meant to be, brought to life by some magical kiss or touch, defined by fairytale love. But every time the love faded, and I woke to find I was only dreaming, fast asleep in my precious tomb. Whispers of life would flush my cheeks, a windswept walk in the garden, a moment in the woods locked in a hawk’s stare, a storm on the beach, but none were strong enough to tear down the cobwebs and bring me to life.
There has always been a stirring in my heart, a longing for something, a time, a thought, a voice lost in the mist. For years I woke with dreams of sisterhood, strength, and power. Dreams of lives past, I’m told. But in some quiet, obscure moment, I finally understood. My dreams were my waking, the realization that each woman is whole within herself. We are, each of us, our own bright light, not made stronger or diminished by any man, prince though they may be. Do not be fooled, we are not one-winged angels; we are the Moon: always constant, ever changing, holding sway over the tides of our souls, and giving birth to the day. We are at one moment old and young, wise and naďve, powerful and weak. It is our art, not our weakness. We each have light to give to the world, light from our own strength, apart from the men we love.
Coffin shattered, left behind, I turn to the dawn. I will no more be that one-winged bird struggling over the waves. I will not drown. I will not break. I will know myself, and in doing so, find the strength and power of the goddess within, and reflect it back upon the world.
Author's Location: Manchester, New Hampshire
More Poems: LexiAngel has posted 7 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about LexiAngel - Click HERE
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