Kundalini Splendor

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Monday, October 22, 2012

Wings, poem by Dorothy 





Wings

When I was younger,
say fifteen
or twenty,
I used to feel something
stirring
right between my shoulder
blades.
Oh, I would think,
that is my wings
trying to come out
and reclaim
all we once were.

As I grew older,
that feeling went away,
and I felt other things—
joy, sorrow, the expectation
that life would, somehow,
get better soon.

I went trudging ahead
and sometimes it did,
and sometimes it didn’t,
but mostly it brought
lovely surprises
that I had no notion
could exist.

Do you ever feel this way,
as if your wings
were right there
just below the surface,
ready to burst forth
and let you fly,
carry you away
to that fairy tale
place
where the skies
are always blue,
the water clear and lovely
as it cascades
over the rocks?

Dorothy Walters
September 15, 2012



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