Feathers. So painfully pointless without the wings they were born to carry. Feathers. Babes of the wind. The insignia of dreams. That ticket to roam, closer to the clouds, to sing in the wind. To feel the sun bleed into your pores. Feathers. Instruments. To maybe spin, and swirl and dive right through the skies. To scream joy in a tongue only known in absence. In the absence of words. In the absence of pride. In the absence of all conformity. To scream in the language of Silence. Where you are just a voice. The wind just a thought and everything around you is vacuum.
I wish you could’ve seen me. Spotted me right on through this masking flesh. I wish you could’ve been there. Father. Brother. lover. Friend. I wish you could’ve caught me before I left floating so far away. I wish you could’ve chained down the flesh and held on to the flight inside. I wish you could’ve come with me. Or maybe taken me with you:
I could trickle away at the sound of your laughter, the twitch in your eye, I could stay put in the folds of the books you read, or maybe curve into every word you wrote, dance across every T you crossed, hummed a whisper with every H you hugged and chuckled at your every E. I could bounce off of your every hiccup. Anything. Something. I wish that you had kept me. Or maybe taken me away. But that comes too late. I wish that you could have held me. Held me back from these precarious edges. From these lonesome winters and this clueless clueless time of day.
I don’t understand the mornings. And I fear the nights. I wish you could’ve been here. Maybe you could’ve taught me to keep my feet tethered to the ground.
And now, I would rather leave everything open ended. A possibility in some unknown branch of the future. A tiger afraid of the wild. A bee of a hive and fish of water. I am dying, don’t you see? Father. Brother. lover. Friend. You can see these bones turn to glass, you can see these eyes turn cold. You can see this mind whisper away into the wind like kisses on a lonesome night. Always remembered like a fading adage in longing.
Can’t you see how this memoir ends. Amidst the careless laughter of a world unknown, where does such a naked stranger roam. Even your heart scoffs at the silence it never understood. So I would rather leave everything open ended. Every smile. Every touch. Every thought. I would rather leave the day unplanned and the winters hidden. I would rather let the night slip by in wordless love with the moon. I would rather these leaves catch each disappearing end of these tears, that like a single unearthly drop of dew, it may fall, and fall, leaf from leaf, petal to petal, that it may kiss the bending stem with its caress and slide down, down, down into the earth till it’s nothing, but a memory of every pain, joy and dream it once held.
I would rather leave it all un-ended. So you can be free. Lover. Brother. father. Friend. That you may be freed from the burden of peeping into my silence. That you can too, float away in your own directions. Free. From all the meaning I tie to your love. Not daughter. Not Sister. Not Lover. Not Friend.
Just another chasm in the grand scheme. Just another vapour of ever shifting light. I’ll leave it open ended, like a feather without its wings, a glaring peccant of hope. Screaming out the possibilities of flight and far away skies. That somewhere it will be worth it. All of it. This floating mind. The aching silence and the void you left behind.
Maybe someday you’ll catch me. Spot on.