You're Going to be OK
Don’t feel ashamed;
that’s just altitude sickness.
You are not used to being at such a height
above the ground-in negativity
of your parental upbringing.
You are not used to the sudden loss
of pressure to conform to their false narrative
and twisted demands.
In a transitional moment
you got lightheaded experiencing
the sudden profound weightlessness
of being absent
from judgment and condemnation.
For a brief second
you saw yourself in a lofty place
high above all the tears
of eighteen long years,
beyond reach of their rage
and the tether of your fears,
and you panicked
because you thought yourself an interloper,
unfettered from hurtful words,
and encroaching upon the space of birds.
You thought that those who were raised to fly
would look at you and sigh,
“Whoever said that you had wings?”
But your parents perpetrated an evil plot
in saying you did not.
Don’t be embarrassed
that you had to throw-up
that bolus of humiliation
you could no longer stomach,
which you were made to choke down
with a very soured gut punch
spiked with lies and chilled with bitterness.
Yes, you spewed a projection
of your accumulated sorrow
across the laps of everyone
in the plain childhood section,
but don’t forget the great relief
of maturity’s take-off:
For an ethereal moment
you were propelled by joy
breaking the bonds
of your parents’ emotional strings
to a child who laughs and sings
knowingly possessing wings.
You did not chart
the current that brought you here
so high above your fear.
Somehow you lost track
of the fact
that your flight has a plan
forgetting that your ticket to fly
with its dream destination,
is a spiritual gift
and you are neither alone
nor simply set adrift.
