Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Blind Faith



The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton





She paces the perimeters of the shoebox
she now knows as home.

I held her gently,
feeling her tiny heartbeat fluttering in my hands,

mashed strawberries on my fingertips as a sweet bribe
leading her towards survival.

She is sightless, unaware of her surroundings
except for what her barbed feet can touch.

She is flightless,
for she has never seen the sky.

Still, she lifts her wings towards a golden light
she cannot know exists, but believes in anyway.