Poetry: Human Flight

Did you know that in ancient times, all humans once knew how to fly?

Time, guilt, selfishness, anger, and fear over thousands of years caused us to evolve into creatures who no longer fly … except for a select few individuals who still believe in the impossible. Still, many do not notice that children are all born with wings. The adults around them who still possess the secret skill of flight must teach them how to best use these wings.

Otherwise, children will remain caged, their wings susceptible to damage, their hopes of something beyond the ordinary ground-level-world relinquished. Some children grow up with their wings set beside them, ripped apart by sadness, confusion, or great force, as they or the adults around them only saw the wings as an abnormality or nuisance that could not be tolerated and needed removal.

Never underestimate the influence of a caring adult who mends a child’s wings. And, if an adult is really lucky, sometimes it is the child who reminds him or her to pick up their weathered, tossed aside wings, and believe in their rusted dreams once again.

Now, imagine a world where we all learned to fly . . . Together, we could find our humanity again.

-S.K.

Poetry: My dear, write

Write to heal, not to sell
Write to connect, when your mind is in utter disconnect
Write to evolve from the conflict, not to solve yourself
Write to invoke emotions, not provoke tension
Write for revenge against all those who burdened you with hurt
Write to commend all those who inspired you with hope
Write to burst free
Write to spread your essence and fly
Write every day
Write, because any day now, your words will die
Write, to fabricate the fiction of everything in your life which was a lie
Write, because every sign and symbol reaffirms what you already know
Writing is the only way to go
Write, because out there, someone is waiting for their soul to be awakened by the flow of your words
So write, my dear
Write, even if it is the most painful act you fear
Write, my dear
That is why he is so near
Watching over you, transparently trembling, because he sees every story, idea, emotion, spark, sentence, slip away with each earthly second
Write, my dear
Because it is becoming so painful to breathe without a release
Write, my dear
It is the only way you will be complete.

– S. K.