What are my wings for?
Two choices I had, which life served
Fight it or take a flight
Flight was tempting, why else did I have my wings?
Death waits for me on either side, the archers being veterans.
I fly, but not as high
Fear of death burdening my back
I fall to the ground, the easy choice is gone
Death becomes my inevitable fate
Burdensome fear vanishes leaving a sore of my last mistake.
I pick my wings, I sheath myself, this time
To fight the abusive arrows, deliberately hurled
Feathery wings or Iron Shield?
Perception diluting their difference
My wings can be anything I want them to be
Today a shield, tomorrow an Umbrella
Protecting me from the scorching heat of evil thoughts .
Or a Life Boat surviving my inner dark storms.
Or a paint brush painting the empty canvas of my mind with awareness of self.
Copyright © Shrijita Sengupta | Year Posted 2023
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