Penn State York

“Wings” by Kellie Gibson

Birth of flight!

A transformation of self.

I grow feathers angelic

From my back flesh

Sprouting anew

Feather, by feather, by feather, by feather.

There is no pain from this sprouting

Only the feeling of pressure.

Now, a newly winged being ready for flight

My arms stretching from wing to silver wing.

The blurry flap of feathers rolls up the air and

Feathery finger tips split like cut felt.

Curled on the edge of a precipice,

Feet muscles pop out pink bulges as

I launch upward and feathers

Whisper sharply like reeds in a breeze;

The launch is streamline.

Flight, sublime feeling of Swoop,

Arched back into frosty winds,

Wind through pink fingers and silver feathers,

Dark, blotted shadow- movement

Coating cliff rocks below.

My feet dangle over dark forests and green fields.

No longer will earth’s embrace

Pinch my flesh.