Temporary point

I am a bird, one of a kind
Up in the sky, strong in mind…
Daily, my wings grow broad
Until it had a minor cut,
I couldn’t fly, even with a flight:
The rain dropped and flushed

Towards me a slimy erosion of beast
I couldn’t hop or jump but puffed
Into a gel; then my wings got stocked.
I starred muted at one spot
Through the ears of the winds
Criticism whirled onto my wings.

Those of, and not my kind
Saw me down, helpless and laughed,
Till the sun came in sweet successions
And dried me up with good optimisms.
Now my wings are getting stronger
With my sharp beak, will I be a forgiver…

When I have watched friends
Erase and condemn my wings.
But to God I shall keep hopes – 
Alive! as I stay at this spot
Patiently awaiting the hills,
For my wings to heal on a rut.