I showed him bird after bird. They knocked around my chest for a while, then flew out between my ribs.
"See how it's done?" I asked.
"I'll plummet like a stone," he confessed.
"You shall not," I said.
"I'm scared," he said.
"Don't be," I replied and broke his wings.
I had to re-set them, you see. They'd healed all crooked and bent. Snapped them like twigs I did & splinted them back together.
"You are ready now," I said.
"I'm scared," he said.
"Don't be," I replied and shoved him to the willow tree.
He clambered up like a quick black spider. Bowyn a dark broken thing perched in a tree.
A willow tree.
(willow o willow weep for me)
Our eyes locked for a moment his shadowed and fearful mine all narrow and knowing & willow branches in-between.
I knocked one more bird out of my chest. It shot straight to the moon.
(willow o willow will you weep for me)
I smiled.
"Fly," I said.
He crouched lower on the branch.
[pause]
"FLY" I screamed.
He stretched.
[pause]
("fly") I whispered.
He opened his mouth like a baby bird & nothing came out but something flew in.
With one long arm I raised my pistol and pointed it at him.
(Be afraid, I thought)
"Pull,"
I said, calmly.
And he flew--
With a leap and a cry he jumped and wings
s t r e t c h e d
the willow caressed him (weep o weep for me) and all the soot was brushed off his wings revealing the truth of him, the beautiful midnight blue-black of him.
Blue-black of him. Truth of him.
He passed in front of the moon, arms outstretched and feet pedaling.
The first flight is always the most the most--
"I'll catch you if you fall," I said and put the gun to my head.
Smiling then with aquamarine lips spread wide showing cut ruby teeth sharp & biting ready to
"Pull Pull Pull"
But I threw the gun in the Hawthorn tree and watched Bowyn fly, instead.
"Don't be afraid."
I swallowed back the next hope bird and licked the blood off my rrrrrruby teeth.
"I'll catch you if you fall."
(Here ends the first flying lesson)
copyright 1995 by jewel (Julieann M. Brown-Micko)
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