I trim my wings regularly,
So I won’t fly again.
Flying is dangerous
I drifted years within myself
in the dark
in silence
in pity
I gathered the bones and put them back together, slowly, afraid
not to wake up the fire
I put water over it
drop by drop
like watering the plants
Enough to keep it smoldering
To not kill it
But also not to have the power
to burn down everything.
The fire is dangerous
Breathing is out of the question
I breathe in just enough
to survive
I can’t afford anymore to fill my lungs fully
When they are inflated
They are ready to fly
And give me the strength to shout out loud
Shhh…
It’s dangerous to be heard by the whole world
You might wake her up!
