Feathers

 
Little one,
where did you leave your wings?
Buried at the back of your desk cubby
in the classroom?
On the soccer field
when you missed the goal?
The eleventh time you were told
children are not to be heard?
Were they smothered, choked,
and bound by shame?
Remember when that boy
placed a kick-me sticker
on the back of your heart
in the lunch line?
 
I can tell you how to find them.
When gold coins become sea foam,
look under your pillow.
 
The Blue Light
 
I am all you need.
I have been here the entire time
waiting
for you to look for me
within yourself.
You know I am here.
Truth is my name
 
I am truth,
yet the mind entertains
fanciful fleeting fantasies
needing to be special,
to be noticed
by another form?
That game is tried–
tired,
aching agony,
watching you chase it.
This approval-love is hollow,
empty.
The watcher reveals
the shell,
cracks it,
breaking the spell,
and you return to me.
 
– both by Carla F.