Another little idea that just came...enjoy!
Have you ever seen a bird's nest with eggs in them? Tiny, perfectly shaped, warm eggs? The mother sitting protectively over them and the father chirping out a beautiful song to us, but a warning call to other birds?
Have you ever seen a bird's nest with baby birds in them? Chirping, damp, wet—nothing like the portrayal of birds we imagine when we think of them today? Crying out, helplessly calling for food? Opening their beaks greedily as their mother and father brings them worms, bugs, and other food?
Have you ever seen a bird's nest with little birds taking their first flight? Wobbly and uncertain, like a toddler's first steps? Hopping back fearfully at the sight of the height above the ground? Spreading its wings uncertainly, glancing back at its encouraging mother and father?
Have you ever seen a bird's nest with grown-up birds flying away? Gone, leaving behind an empty nest and lots of memories? Gone, to mate and create its own little birds? Gone, flying without worry, flying confidently and gracefully and swooping and wheeling so unlike their first attempt to fly?
Have you ever seen a bird's nest with a flightless bird in it?
A little flightless bird, all wet and shriveled up and helpless, cawing feebly? Its siblings flying and chittering and chattering, leaving its deformed sister or brother behind? A little flightless bird, wingless and hopeless and a disgrace to bird-dom?
Have you ever seen a bird's nest with that flightless bird gone? Gone; down, down, down it fell, hitting the ground and collapsing with a final, weak chirp? Gone; up, up, up to the Sky where it will forever linger with the rest of its ancestors, and more to come?
Gone, up to the Sky, where it will grow wings and truly fly? And be free?
I'm like that little bird. I'm a mutant, yet I grew up with five others like me. I was not alone. I learned to fly. Fang was by my side all the time.
And then he left.
And I can't fly.
Because when he left, I lost my wings. I lost my Sky. I lost my ability to fly. I lost all that belongs in the heaven, wheeling and spiraling and soaring and gliding and coming as close to heaven as you can get while you're still here. On Earth. Alive; living.
Because when he left, I became that little flightless bird.
It's short, but if I added onto it...it's called "knowing where to stop where you should stop"!
This was based on my poem, Little Flightless Bird:
How doth the little birdies,
Twittering and Chirping above,
Spring hath come, bringing with it
The mating calls of love.
New chicks are born, crying out
For food and love and care,
And the first flights are taken
Everywhere; nigh everywhere.
Soon comes summer and with it
Brings the more confident flights of now,
The birds flying away, away,
Putting on a fabulous colorful show.
And soon the nests are empty,
Waiting for another year,
And soon new chicks will be born,
Taking their first flights with much fear.
But we forget the left-behind's,
The castaways, the dregs in the tea,
We forget the little flightless birds,
That remind me so much of me.
We cannot fly, we stand out,
We are constantly left behind,
We are forgotten quickly and erased quickly
Say what about the non-existent friends of mine?
I can relate to those little birds,
Those little birds with failed wings,
But like me, they have hidden talents too,
Just wait till you hear them sing.
My poem is less depressing than my story. :D Oh well.