My wing flutters in spite of my will
I hold it down with my right hand.
I can't fly with one wing:
My sister was too slow
To finish my nettle shirt,
So I am reminded of my days
As a swan all the times
I wish I could hold a girl.
For years, I flew over the ocean waves
In an overcast sky, through
Struggle and exile.
I had nowhere to rest
I swayed in the winds
But back among humans
I am a freak:
Look, the boy with a swan wing...
My lonely wing still remembers
The days of exile, flying without a nest,
And yet, it is my GPS
It senses when it is time to rest
To withdraw from vain company
Or distress.
Away, away, I would fly again,
If only my arm turned into a wing
At will.
I am forever poised between
This known world and the unformed next.
Again, I would cross into other realms
If only...
But here comes my sister
And I hold her shoulder with my wing.
She loves petting me, her little swan,
She calls me, without a clue
How uncomfortable
To be forever torn between earth and sky.
Anchored through my human feet
To this rock
Hindered from soaring
Because of a single wing.
Nobody can feel that.
You are unique, they cry in delight
But I am not tempted by their claims.
To be so unique
That nobody empathizes
So lonely
That nobody shares my plight
Feels more like a curse than luck.
So, after all, our stepmother 's spell
Was not broken for me
I still carry its stigma and brunt
In my very limbs and bones.
I am the 'swan boy'
On days people are kind
But beneath a veneer of fascination
I am forever the 'swan freak.'