To Wean

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To Wean

Is to unlatch the lock from
the shut door. To unlace the fingers
which grip your arms, holding
you in place, not necessarily against
your will. One likes to roam

in the cities where one cannot get
lost. Grown people are supposed
to possess the inherent GPS, with
the sharpness of the homing pigeons.
Only a fool gets trapped inside her own
garage, flapping her wings in circles
and again in ovals and rectangles,
never finding the opening.

To wean is to curl your lips away
from the sustenance, turn from the warmth of
your mother’s breast and that gorgeous scent of
sweet milk. First, you have to learn
how to unfurl the petals of your
mind and fly without checking for wings.

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This entry was posted in poetry, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to To Wean

  1. spooncave says:

    very well done!

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