Today I went in search of wings,
And all along the way I found stories
That caused my mind to soar…
The subways, streets, and stores
Filled with narratives Vibrant and Strong….

The family passing by the art unknowing
Of its means,
Of its part in the whole,
     Its impermanence,
     Its toll….

The tall, handsome, dark Somalian
With close cropped hair
And his bi-racial beauty and
Their picnic faire….

The bulls with their horns Red with blood…
On they come,
With soccer chants, eager feet,
Paced even on the streets….

The little boy with the wellingtons
And the questions non-stop all ride long,
The father tall with his eager charges
Navigating trains, transfers, barging passengers, and throngs
Weaving through the subterranean shafts….

I found the stories that gave me wings
I found the wings that lift to higher things.
– dahlia holmes
Sunday 8.30.2015 7:43 pm


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