Stumblings On: A Poem
“Blood of My Wings” by brothers Ian (7) & Luke (3)
I learn by going where I have not been,
Rising from my place of familiar,
I ignore discomfort and fear,
You don’t live here any more, I say,
Off with you! Leave me behind!
No longer do the tendrils of pain hold steadfast to my nerves,
For strength swells within me on the shore of my soul,
Blood drips where my wings have torn through my skin,
Spanning wide and setting me a sail,
I push off from the ground and stare at my old self below,
Necessary was it for me to wade through the anguish,
The fear and the pain that left me so broken,
But today, the haze clears from my eyes,
Renewing in me the light that shone,
Once upon a time when I was the artist girl,
In my own mind she was of the unknown,
I know now that she is I and I am her,
A forceful pair, together we make,
Naysayers! I listen to you no more!
I spit at you, baring my teeth,
Get out of my way! Bar not the door!
For nothing is impossible in what I do,
Be gone with yourself, I cast you from my mind,
For the answers have existed within me all this time,
And now I am learning to draw them out,
Drinking from the cup that has always been mine.
No more reasons do I have to cast my dreams aside,
I am that girl who’s been tattered and torn,
The one who now unleashes the fire of her spirit,
Without the bitterness and anger I once carried so close,
Instead, now, I let my artist out of her cage,
Screaming from the depths, “Look at me world! I am worth a damn!”
“I cast on you the magic that I believe now to be true!”
Yet sometimes I still lose my footing when doubt comes to call,
Bloodying my knees, my elbows, my arms,
But there is always a new morning ready to pick me up and lead me on,
So I may continue with my stumblings … my stumblings … my stumblings on,
Heed my word, though, some days I want to give up,
I am tired and often ask, what is the use?
Then a window draws open or a door cracks ever so slight,
And I’m reminded of the gifts that God has anointed in me,
That vast imagination that runs fierce in my mind,
For it is He whom I create and put forth my faith in strong,
Filling me with strength to continue my stumblings … my stumblings … my stumblings on.
Bar not the door!!! Charge.
I wrote that line specifically for the Big Six publishers in New York who said that LITTLE 15 was too controversial and wouldn’t have a market. Um, I now beg to differ …
Yeah!!!!!!!! WAHOO!!!! You are wonderful, my friend!!!! I am sharing this with one of my women groups (and on my page)!
*squeals* *jumps up and down*
Smiling. I want all my friends to see how good your work is.
That’s really amazing… I loved it… and i loved the name of the painting at the beginning, Blood of My Wings… really told the story of the painting
Thank you, Ahamin! The poem literally spilled out of me in a matter of minutes. I then looked at what my son was painting and it spoke to me. An amazing artistic moment of raw inspiration. I was on a writer’s high for hours after.
That’s amazing… this moment when your ideas come out pouring through your fingers… it makes me feel like this moment is my purpose…
And waw… your son is amazing, i’m sure you r really proud of him.
This same “phenomenon” happened when I wrote LITTLE 15 – couldn’t get it out fast enough. And yes, I’m very proud of my son! He informed me tonight that his little brother was the one who painted over the piece with red. So I will need to correct the caption!
Awesome, Stephanie! I have no other words for this. Just, awesome.
Thank you, Ann. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Please share with Stan.