Once upon a time there was a girl
Who felt so out of place,
Out of pace with the world,
And a million miles small;
Lonesome flower on the wall.
Always a bud, never a blossom.
Ever micro, never cosm.
One late night she looked up
Into the nothing-nowhere,
And in a breath she wished
That she could go there.
She was never hateful,
What was in her head and her heart
Wasn’t the same, though.
The little girl felt at times
That she was bursting.
Never let the seams give way
To what is hurting!
Oh! to have wings outside of dreaming,
Wouldn’t that be perfect!
To fly away and never wonder
If she wasn’t worth it.
But in the morning she’d wake
The same girl, the same place
The same crowded out space,
And expectations she must face.
Then one day, how it came to be
But that little girl awoke
And her wings began to show
‘Til so full and so majestic
She could fly out on her own,
And she thought that maybe now
They’d see her, beautiful and strong!
But she was wrong.
With envy in their eyes
They all scorned her
For becoming something
They declared she wasn’t born for.
Said her gift was nothing
But a thing that had deformed her,
And forlorn, the girl believed,
Spread her wings and wandered.
Up into the nothing-nowhere
Higher she ascended
To the place where she could breathe the air
As wishing had intended.
This was her freedom,
From there unto the curvature of earth,
Where eternity lurked in the colors
Of the sun’s early birth.
The shining stars as ancient bards
Recounted tales of old,
And the faithful moon beside her,
Always smiled, always glowed.
And yet she was alone.
The lights shone up from far beneath her,
From the home that had rejected
Criticized and did mistreat her
For being who she wished to be;
For breaking harmony
So she could play a symphony.
But who was listening?
Isolated in the sky,
It wasn’t freedom
If she only flew up there to hide.
Resolute with her decision
She turned her back to the sky,
And dove away from the nothing-nowhere
Towards the place she’d left behind.
But when she landed in their midst
As an angel from the heavens,
They saw only what was different
And they feared their own imperfections.
Still her intentions did not change,
Her courage did not make her vain,
Because she saw in them the pain
That she herself had borne to shame.
The seizing of her arms
Met no resistance,
And as they ripped her wings apart
She did not plead for their desistance.
The hours passed.
The wretched mob, grown weary with the violence,
Left the girl lying
In the dark and in the silence.
But beside her broken body
Breathing shallow in the street,
A joy within her eyes
And a tear upon her cheek,
Stood a child gazing down
With a smile as she told
The little girl who wished to fly,
“…And here I thought I was alone…”