The Wings of an Exiled Mother

By: Herliterary

I said, “Grow up, and then come find me.”

Because you’ve put your freedom on hold

And I’ve been sitting in this guilt for twenty years.

But how can I ostracize you

When you’re just a mother praying for her kid?

I said, “Grow up, and then come find me.”

But that fantasy had already gathered dust.

So you asked, “Will you reach for my dreams?”

Even if your pocket housed plenty of pixie dust.

But my attempts left my wings in ruins,

Crushed by the weight of who you could have been.

I yelled, “Grow up, and then come find me!”

For I heard scissors being sharpened

And words that were cutting.

So I exiled you from our home,

forcing you to use your wings.

And while tears flooded my feet,

You whispered, “Forgive me,” without any sins

and unknowing that I’ll forever grieve.

You finally grew up and have not come back.

So I pray nightly, hoping you’ll grow roots there soon.

Hoping you’ll know that when I fervently gaze at the moon,

I sit by the window, no longer waiting.

For I am certain that we are both flying

With hearts unburdened.