Wings

Katie Lathan

Revelle College, General Biology

Poetry

Wings have always been fascinating to me, as has flying. There is this kind of freedom that comes with flying, this ability to reach out to another world outside of the regular earth beneath our feet. There is no need to be reliant on anything besides those wings, attached. Of course, humans cannot truly fly, but it has always been a pleasant thought for me. My poem explores this idea of how feathers and wings serve as a metaphor or representation of freedom, whether that is freedom of growth, turning from a teenager to an adult, or freedom from simply living somewhere else than the only place I ever called home. I also used lower case capitalization and rhymed as I wanted


“I wanted warm feathers as a child” is the opening line and it serves to indicate my mindset as a child. For me, I lived on fantasies from books and movies that I had consumed. The stress of school, the stress of knowing what I needed to do for my future, the stress of uncertainty that goes along with identity, and having little exposure to the real world for I lived in fictional worlds as many hours as I could a day. “Wildlands” were the lands that I could see outside of my window but rarely explored, whether they were parks or streets, anywhere with my few real friends.


I mention “superstitions” as a more childish remembrance that I had towards restrictions and guidelines of how to conduct myself as a child. In the books that I consumed, the characters would break every rule in the name of freedom, in the name of exploration, in the name of glory, and I wanted to do the same. However, I was an odd kid and wouldn’t ever have the courage to conduct such actions. Rather, I mused in my room, and read over every inspiring conversation characters had with their friends and that I wanted to have with my own.


“Mist surrounding my neck” serves as the growing idea that I had towards myself, including my own weaknesses and insecurities stemming from typically not what my parents have told me but from how I felt from the outside world. In comparing myself to these beloved characters, some without any flaws and others with such inane ideas that it wasn’t ever going to be fair for a growing child in the world that there is so much misinformation for everyone to hear. I couldn’t seem to lift myself out of the stereotypes that threatened me or the misguidance that I felt towards my livelihood and what aspects I should change.


At this point, my view towards wings has changed. I have grown up a little, hopefully, matured by the fourth and last stanza in my poem. However, I still have a mix of happy yet sad feelings towards my initial idea of what wings could represent. For now, I have this promise of wings, this promise of freedom that I have growing doubts about that threaten my overall opinion of my childhood dream. If I embrace this “heavy” curse upon my shoulders, then at least I am acknowledging the possible truth that lays before me and on top of my body. However, if I fight back, then I can “force” my way through all of the other expectations and create my own, finally.


Perhaps this is the best decision. Letting myself take in all kinds of information and then form a final idea that encompasses all yet is unique in its eventual standing. There have to be careful decisions made in the face of my idea about wings. If I go too far on one side, then I have basically laughed in the face of my younger, naïve self, but if I think too positively about my placement in the world, then all of that growth was for naught. Rather, I seek an opportunity to reveal myself more fully. For the sake of my future, I seek the best option: knowing that these wings may have not been everything I wanted them to be, but I can use them as a force to guide me through the next important stage in my life.


Is this adulthood? Is this college? I would say that as a senior in college, I have now set my sights on what kind of career I want to pursue. Either way, I have pushed through some of my own expectations and some of my own regrets to emerge with a unique set of wings. Wings that may not be real, that may not be written in the stars, in the grass that I wanted to explore, but instead, written in the words that I have told myself over the years and have only recently started to believe: I have control. I can make this journey a positive one.

Disclaimer: Many storytellers here shared vulnerable experiences, which might be triggering to some. Please see below for resources.