If I Could Fly

Would I fly as a
Dove— symbolizing peace,
wings beating like my heart,
or as a Raptor
suspended on broad feathers of flight— silent as thoughts,
looking down, in non-human conformity with eyes of wisdom
and question why

If I could fly, would I see
tears of red, streaming down Her volcanic ashen face
She looking back at me, only as a trouble Mother could
wondering….how

Would tears flow as I observe
Her blue amniotic fluids caressing the shores
She trying to offer solace to Her child
in spite of
Her own pain

Would I soar silent, while
icy whispers slide down crystal
stoic walls,
                  falling,
                            moving,
filling crevasses of age

Must I bear witness to
tangled webs, though connected,
stifling the nurturing voice of reason
while tree limbs reaching in desperation
plead—do not take me for I am all that is left

What would I see —if I could fly?
the birth of new
or the death of old
before their time is due


Kellie M Shanley © 2007