Clipped Wings

Clipped Wings

Hidden and buried is my true self.
Where did the playful, free-spirited girl go?
I allow my black, heavy soul to darken my vision
and squelch my curious, adventurous being.
My crimes, my sins, my guilt
muffle my voice and cripple my movement.

Meekly, yet obediently I wear my crown of thorns
and carry my wooden cross.
All my hopes have dissipated,
existing only in the realm of the unconscious.
I silently scream and cry for comfort.
My sadness, my anger, my frustration
dampen my motivation and paralyze my actions.

Many parts of me have zoned out.
no response, no focus, no attention
After so many years of desperation,
my desires and dreams have dissipated.
There is no sign or light to direct me
My fear, my unhappiness, my loneliness
blur my vision and obstruct my progress.

So, I can only fantasize about my flight to freedom.
Sensing joy, loving openly, laughing heartily.
I can only imagine
to jump, laugh and express freely,
without the fear of rejection or judgment.
To flap my arms and feel the sensation of lift off.
My terror, my doubt, my confusion
clip my wings and keep me incarcerated.

By
Monica Ibarra-Robbins