…to have wings

Dying in the dark, my colours faded
I ache to have wings so that I can fly high into the sky
far from the things that trouble me
where I could be endlessly circling in splendid solitude
far from the caverns of darkness
far from the howls and the scent of the blood of the beast
where the soft sun, in the light of the day will bless me
with the warmth of her kisses
and the melancholy moon in the velvet night
will drench me in her violet tears
in the seasons of branches and the seasons of blooms
I would swim above it all in the chambers of heaven
where the light is always rising and always setting
but is never, not ever, extinguished
where the songs of darkness are soft and beautiful
and nature’s veils, sheer and floating, shift weightless
where the wind paints the heavens
with its gentle brushstrokes in service to sky and sea
where, as I watch in endless wonder
the clouds, the stars and my heart, all fathomless
are still drifting in a portrait of darkness
now framed in a strange soft light
© Ann Bagnall