Eleutheria

This tale is mine and true. It tells
Of how I learned to fly, soaring high
Above anxiety and fear and pain. I
Was born on the ground, in a
Tumultuous storm of sorrow and confusion,
No wings to be found. As a child, I
Watched birds claim the sky from behind the
Glass of my bedroom window. They were masters
Of flight and freedom alike, and I wondered
How it would feel to be the same. I met the king
Of beasts, surprisingly gentle and genial,
When I wandered too near my neighbour’s fields.
He huffed out a curious breath and lowered
His nose to my palm. I stood stock-still in
Awe, until the beast thundered back across the grass to his
Herd. I went home, enthralled and excited, and
Learned all I could about him. Within a
Month, I was atop a similar beast with a thick grey mane
And a sun-dappled pelt. It was a slow, cautious
Thing, but I was closer to the heavens than I had ever been.
And then we were trotting. Sometimes, when the sun-dappled
Beast was feeling especially joyful,
He bounced me up high from my seat.
I became a few inches closer to flight. The
First time we sailed over a jump, there was a
Moment—a single ephemeral eternity—where
All four of the beast’s hooves left the ground
And we were soaring forward and I was weightless,
And in that moment, I realised that I don’t need
Wings to fly.


Elutheria: Greek personification of liberty and freedom