On Wings: With Garuda Poem by Rani Turton

The sky. The sky, complete and infinity-clad.
On wings, I would fly, leave this body and this brain
In this concrete prison: Yes, I would fly.

On wings, I would let the breeze handle me as it's wont
Thrown here and there: I would skiddle, paddle
Heck, skedaddle away to didle daddle.

I would fly. On wings I could try to breathe
Far from these walls, these constraints:
I would see what lay beyond the boundaries,
The woodlands, the frontiers and the obligations.

With wings certainly it would seem
A simple frivolous thing. With wings
Both victim and prey, life would seem
A fragile, totally different dream

Real, surreal. I could fly with those wings:
Those mythological birds come to haunt me
The wings, those flying, beating wings
Sing a song; recite verses of poetry

I could like a Garudian clone
Freedom-intoxicated, listen to those wings,
Immense beating wings that can block out the horizon:
That sing and chant lines of poetry

With Garuda and those wings I could fly
To that distant land of liberty in the sky.



Copyright: Rani Turton