Midnight Transformation

When the need came for me to fly
I pictured a juvenile red-tailed hawk,
her gray feathers fingering rising air,
playing the nocturne of her flight.

Soon afterward contractions began;
I severed the cord that held me since birth
and breast stroked through the sea heavy air.

See me? I’m flying! I shout to a nest
of vipers, those that were born on
the cul-de-sac—still reaching for my feet.

In this way I labored above the cliffs,
pushing and swimming to maintain height;
then when I fell, an explosion of wings.

Some might say that I changed when I fell.
As if to scream is to find freedom.
As if to fall is the birth of flight.





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