Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Strong (11/21/24)
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TITLE: Flight to Freedom | Previous Challenge Entry
By Phil Drabble
11/26/24 -
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My wings aren’t anatomical. The secateurs are metaphorical, my crimes are historical. This story, allegorical.
For the crimes I have committed, for the times I have omitted to tell the truth, I have been charged; found wanting, found wanton, found guilty and now I am lost. A homing pigeon blown off course. An albatross around the necks of those I have hurt. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no angel but I’m no devil either.
But my wings have been clipped and here I reside. Trapped inside my cage. Bars on the windows hold me. Cancelling my flight to freedom. I barely exist in a museum of my past history. Barely alive in the mystery of an aging mausoleum. A post-autumnal, after the Fall, arboretum.
Days drip into weeks, weeks seep into months and long, long months stagnate into what seems a decade.
It takes me ages before I start to turn the pages in your book. It tells me in my own strength I am weak, but I am strong in knowing my own weakness. It tells me I’m strong not because I wear my armour, but because I wear your armour. I’m not strong because I fight, but I gain strength in waiting for the light. The pages fall open and there it is. They that hope, they that wait shall renew their strength. They will fly on wings like eagles.
Bars fall from my eyes. Fall from my cage too. I stand tall. My wings stretch and slowly unfurl. I reach out to the eagles flying overhead ready to rise and soar with them.
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