Written by Esteban Hernandez

I’ll fly away from here with wings like an eagle.

I made them you know.

The shimmering feathers are constructed of broken tears and faded promises.

So many feathers I’m sure that they will carry me far.

The harness; thick leather straps hardened by a coating of memories of my mother.

Do you see this gorgeous collar that sparkles when it is kissed by the light?

It has the word “society” engraved deeply into the center of it.

That’s because it’s origin is every disparaging word said to me

I’m not good enough,

not tall enough,

not strong enough,

not… man enough…

Each of those words were melted down and hammered into a pretty shining collar just how they like.

My wings have these ornate levers to navigate through the sky.

I suppose while ornate usually means special, in this occasion that intricate detail means they dig into my skin each time that move them to change direction.

See, the handles of these levers are etched with every detail of each of my moments of weakness.

Reminders of every instance of rebellion, every intentional decision to stray from the path previously forged for me. Every choice that I made knowing it was wrong in the moment.

These levers are my accountability.

They will guide me in any direction I choose… I choose.

I created these wings,

Well that’s what I tell myself.

I say that I made these wings to escape this place

With the intention that they would take me far, far, from here where the Sun rise never leaves the sky and the soft morning air kisses my cheeks all through the day.

And I would fly higher and higher until everything here is but a memory.

…a fading one at that.

And then I would simply smile.

But as each day passes, as I fly closer and closer to the sun

I realize that I did not make these wings at all

They are my prison

These wings are actually cold, steel handcuffs.

They are the false sense of hope that makes me believe I can escape this world of unbreakable cycles

As time fades and my wings begin to become an extension of myself I lose more and more of the person I once was.

My mind begins to settle into the reality that these wings which were supposed to represent freedom, and deliverance, and one day give me the ability to stretch my legs to the core of the earth and run in full stride off of this pain filled world

are not what I thought at all.

One day, the only part that will remain, will be my wings.

Text © Esteban Hernandez