Flight by Robert Thiessen

Swallows by Benjamin Chee Chee, 197?

Flight
 
Myself,
Feathers cut, broken, battered, pulled.
Abused.
Defeathered.
 
Grounded.
 
Molted.
Feathers replaced, renewed, replenished.
 
I start to fly again, and now, 
 
I do not fly alone.
 
Campfires, BBQs, the swish of a canoe paddle, the sound of river silence, and 
 
I start to soar, and now, 
 
I do not soar alone.
 
Ropes, knots, clamps, axe heads, and tools.
I soar.  
 
I soar in Jerusalem, in the Garden, to
"Because He Lives," and now
I do not soar alone.
 
I soar in Petra, in a stone cavern to
"How Great Thou Art," and now,
I do not soar alone.
 
In the darkness, in the night, my lady's naked foot rubs my shin, and
I soar, and
 
the sky is mine again, and now, 
I do not soar alone.
 
The sun shines on me, 
The SON shines on us, and now, 
 
 I do not soar alone.

Robert Thiessen

Robert Thiessen worked at General Motors, most recently as a millwright, and is now retired. He lives in Sarnia, Ontario.
This is the second poem he wrote in his lifetime, part of the ekphrastic 20 Poem Challenge.