I have no skills for flight or wings
to skim the waves effortlessly, like the wind itself.
Ada Limon
Yet every dawn, I climb the jagged cliff and leap—not into air, but into belief.
The sea below doesn’t welcome me, but it listens.
I carry paper feathers in my coat, dreams stitched into each fold.
Children laugh behind me, calling me mad.
They don’t see the albatross that visits when no one watches,
its great wings brushing the edge of my thoughts.
Today, I fall slower.
The updraft holds me half a breath longer than yesterday.
I hear the ocean gasp.
When I land, bruised and grinning, a single white feather rests at my feet.
Not mine. Never mine.
But real.
I pocket it.
Tomorrow, I will try again.
Not because I believe I’ll fly—
but because trying is the closest I’ve ever come.
Credit for the line I used in this piece goes to Ada Limon!
The line I used was:
“I have no skills for flight or wings
to skim the waves effortlessly, like the wind itself.”
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