Wings to Fins: A Flight from Cruelty, A Dive into Peace

When I was a terrorized, tortured, petrified child, I would look up- into the vast, clear blue, empty space, and wish I were a bird. To spread my wings, rise beyond reach, dip through clouds like whispers, ride the blustery winds, and after the rain- chase the ribbons of color that arc across the sky, just out of curiosity. By night, I would perch on treetops unknown, watching the silver moon grin as stars winked their silent promises. Now, as an adult, I wish I were a fish. Not to witness the wicked antics of madmen. Not to hear the echoes of cruelty. I would swim deep, where the sea cradles its secrets, among coral cathedrals, through forests of drifting light. I would not need gills, I would not need breath— I would hold it, until men learn to be kind. And at night, I would rest on the ocean bed, where even the waves whisper softly, where silence is sacred, where the world above cannot follow.