I, too, wanted 
to confront
the palpable aloofness
of their god
I tried to know
and dim the scorching 
of the noon sun
on my skin.

As a child still 
clinging to the worries 
of their hands 
leashing mine
and waiting all day
for roadside blossoms,
I marveled 
at stubbornness.

Under the tree
and the thin beryl 
of the sky,
I gathered bird feathers
shed for migration;
they asked;
and I looked up to smile, 
“For Icarus.”


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