Useless Wings by tex norman

Useless Wings by tex norman

 

Some birds don't fly, but they have wings.

What that must be like to have something

that should impart an ability but it doesn't.

 

How painful it must be to want do something

that, for all apparent reasons, you should be

able to do, and yet you clearly, demonstrably

 

cannot do.  It is doubtful the turkey would be

on so many plates for Thanksgiving if they

had the gift of soaring flight.  And chickens

 

are like sitting ducks.  No. It's worse than that,

and it explains why so many are consumed

daily.  Do Penguins pensively stand patiently

 

huddled on a sheet of ice, all winter, because,

being nonflying birds, it is safer for them there?

Are Ostriches so unpredictable mean because

 

they are just so pissed off about not being

able to use the wing they were bone with?

Having a few useless gifts of my own I am

 

not totally clueless to how the might feel.

I can see the edge, and I'm thinking, do

I dare dash to the edge determined

 

to place my faith in what has failed me so

many times before?  Is my lack of faith

the flaw that keeps from from success?

 

Do I dare try to do what I've been unable

to do a dozen times before?  Is my flaw

never taking that one, no turning back try?