Catch The Wind

source: http://selenada.deviantart.com/

By M.W. Twyman

My heart keeps breaking. When I think of my mother, I think of a battle, a tug-of-war between light and darkness. Like a fallen angel… her wings have been sullied by the ashes that coat the damp, spongy soil, of the pitch black shadows that she tries to thrive in. The light sits just above her realm of existence, but she can never fly that high no matter how hard she flaps.

She doesn’t realize that the ashes dirty the feathers of her wings to the point that they can no longer catch the wind. So, when she leaps from a cliff and tries to soar, she winds up plummeting instead. Usually before she hits the craggy, boulder-strewn plains below, she is able to gain purchase on the air and lift herself back up… not this time.

This time she’s falling too fast and her feathers are sticking tight. This time, she won’t catch the wind, she’ll close her eyes tight and upon impact be pushed into another realm, another existence. She’ll get another chance to keep her feathers clean and let her wings catch the wind.

My mother’s ashes are drugs and abuse. The boulders are the deadly cancer that stamps its initials on her mind… GBM.