Tilting to the West [Poetry]

Feather Gatherer

"No wings and no worth."
Dedicated to feather_gatherer


Grounded and alone
gathering fallen feathers. 
Days and days on my bruised knees
in the dusty dirt, murky mud, and grime.
My eyes are swollen, my back bent
Sympathetic people surround me
at first and then disappear into the crowd.
The gossamer feathers that create wings.

I've fallen and in need of a friend. 
What if my worth isn't in these wings,
feathers, or even the miracle of flight.
Maybe the allusive gift has been inside;  
my beating heart. This very heart of mine,
that compels me to stop, to help others.
Whose face, feathers, and faith have fallen
and themselves in need of a friend. 

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