Fly

I stand at my nest. It has been years since I left. Mother has squawked about the risks, About no one helping me. “I could fall, I could get hurt, and I could break something.” I want to get out. I even think about sneaking out at night, But my conscience acts as my mom’s spy. Giving me guilt of the hunters down below. So I stay in my nest. Letting myself get heavy, while all my brothers fly away. One day, I sit in my nest alone. My family is nowhere in sight. I cannot stand the loneliness, I cannot stand the boredom. So I ignore mom’s spy and leave my nest for the day. So I stand at the branch, I give a running start, with my wings open. And I leap. What is this? Am I off the ground? Who is holding me? Who cares! I feel free! I lert the wind guide my body around. I dance with God and listen to him talk. There is fear, but with it comes control. I command myself, but the wind holds my wings. When I see trouble I know how to avoid it. Reality is not hell, it is a pallet, Painted by fate, uncontrolled by me. But I know when to stop as I head back to the nest. My mom maybe mad, but like it or not, Even little ones must leave their nest.