It’s a Big Sky

My daughter
It is good to see you fly

Against the wind
You have learned this skill.
Many have tried
To ground you
Pulling feathers
As they retreat.


I am friends with midnight,
Knowing its darkness
Has come for you
And each night
I died many deaths
Knowing the confusion
That was defining your life.

We were helpless
Watching this tragic play.
Yet, not hopeless.
Wings grow strong.
Watching you run
Broad wings strengthened
Lifting our beloved.

Above it you soar.
And those below
Take note.
A measure of pride.
Or, a measure of shame.
Of earned scars.

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