When Scissors Came

Fledgling American Crow on Hand  
photo by Robert Langham


I was born black winged vocal
on the tongue of silence.

Harsh tried to teach me
to fly without words,
but sight isn’t deaf.

With every “hush”
I grew stronger.

When scissors came
to cut me from the nest,
I’d already learned
the language of wings.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

The Sunday Muse #54



Comments

  1. tonispencerMay 5, 2019 at 5:13 PM

    I love the last lines in this Susie. I think birds early do learn the language of wings.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Carrie Van HornMay 5, 2019 at 7:08 PM

    This is a powerful poem Susie! What is more vital to a writer or poet than being heard and having a voice? That first line is sheer poetic brilliance!

    ReplyDelete
  3. C. SandlinMay 6, 2019 at 12:05 PM

    Ooooo--this gave me shivers. What a story.

    ReplyDelete
  4. FireblossomMay 7, 2019 at 7:17 AM

    You go, high flying bird.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sherry Blue SkyMay 7, 2019 at 9:40 AM

    "Vocal on the tongue of silence" - wow! This is powerful and I LOVE those closing lines - when the scissors came "I'd already learned the language of wings." Spectacular!

    ReplyDelete
  6. indybevMay 7, 2019 at 10:16 AM

    May we ALL learn the language of wings!

    ReplyDelete

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