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Chidera Odom Restaurant Operations M... @ Sundry Foods Ltd
city Benin City, Nigeria
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In Literature, Writing and Blogging 3 min read
Little Winged things
<p>Today is definitely a day for flying things. </p><p>That's the only explanation as to why my street is littered with wings. </p><p>Large and smooth, like from butterflies, </p><p>Only I know these are no butterflies. </p><p>They are vicious minstrels.</p><p><br></p><p>Their big bodies hanging from thin layers of dry dust, </p><p>Flapping and clapping to their own private song. </p><p>They whiz past my drums in a blur </p><p>The only sign of their departure is the sound of their waving wings as they bumble along. </p><p><br></p><p>...and there were dead wings all over, </p><p>As far as the eyes could see, dancing in car headlights. </p><p>A large pair sauntered over to me and settled on my neck. </p><p>Like hates first kiss, with all its dirt and grime. </p><p><br></p><p>Reflex had me jumping out of the daze and rolling downhill. </p><p>There was no pretense. </p><p>everything it came from and it's very guts made my throat boil. </p><p><br></p><p>In sullen distaste, I ran all the way home and scrubbed my skin free of the gritty murk of insect dust. </p><p>The thought of it kept me up most of the night. </p><p>Inspecting every inch, every hour, was my mime. </p><p>Although I kept to the time tellers chime, </p><p>I fought to be rid of it with all my might. </p><p><br></p><p>In my wary flight from the little creatures,</p><p>I could not outrun their lingering,<br></p><p>It was not the grime nor the niggling drip of their savage, but something else,<br></p><p>A budding rhythm, a sense of fear, not my own,<br></p><p>That crawled beneath my skin like scurrying ants.<br></p><p>It whispered of woes from legions,<br></p><p>Of drones and dragons – winged things too.<br></p><p><br></p><p>Yes, I’d love to see me surrounded by nature. </p><p>Layer by layer, as i see me mature. </p><p>I commune with the ocean and even with the trees,</p><p>Even in twilight, in the silence of the night, I see those reels.</p><p><img src="/media/inline_insight_image/LWT 1.jpeg"><br></p><p>I dreamt that night of little fluttering angels, </p><p>Not just their wings, but their shadows too. </p><p>They danced in my light, danced around my head,</p><p>In waves of motion, they swooned and they swooped, </p><p>All my little spaces were brushed by their wings </p><p>They touched everywhere, buzzing, yet silent, </p><p>Filling the air around them with eerie, yet peaceful sounds.</p><p><br></p><p>Suddenly, the night was over, dawn came too soon, </p><p>I stepped into the chaos of my world, but that too felt different </p><p>Of course, I had been touched by the good winged people. </p><p>The air was lighter and full of meaning, </p><p>The trees greener, every leaf fluttering like the wings I tried to forget.</p><p><br></p><p>As I stood taller, I began to wonder, </p><p>Had I misunderstood them all this time? </p><p>These sullen creatures of nude dust and quiet song </p><p>Perhaps, not all of them kiss to burn. </p><p>Mayhap, their grime must not always repel, but remind, </p><p>Their nature is sometimes dredged, not always refined, </p><p>Still, it is never empty of reason. </p><p><img src="/media/inline_insight_image/Last winged thing.jpeg" alt=""><br></p><p>So, I let my mind calm and gave controls to the wind, </p><p>This time, when the wings came, I only beheld fragile beauty. </p><p>Then I found my slice of peace. </p><p>All this time, the truth was hidden beneath the dust. </p><p>“Model Kind acceptance to find your wings, then fly”. </p><p><br></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
Little Winged things
By Chidera Odom
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