THE FLIGHT

they tell us 
to open our broken wings 
seal our smiles of cracked glass with 
honey and brass 
to sing farewell to hells and heavens of before (though we shout for home) 
flinging ourselves away from the edge

they haunt us 
with catatonic whispers of futures past and presents hidden 
an old possibility of now 
forgotten in futile dreams and fear of the dark (both of them screaming) 
closed eyes of therebefore and missed maybes 

they watch us 
kiss us on frigid foreheads and smile                                            

                                                                                                              ecstatically 

drive us on to the opposite of remaining 
staining our cheeks with bloody fingers (they claw at nothing)                                        (they are desperate) 
reminding of what it feels like to return  

they push us 
and they tell us to jump 

falling 

or 

soaring.