“The First Flight”
Today I saw a bird
spread its wings to fly.
A baby bird—
trembling
on the edge of the sky.
Its chest rose like mine,
not from strength,
but from trying.
Not from knowing,
but from crying
before the wind could hear.
It fluttered once,
then twice—
and almost fell.
But the fall,
like fate,
was part of the spell.
We are not so different,
that bird and I:
Born with hollow bones
and the need to try.
The world too big,
the air too wide—
but still,
we open our wings
and glide.