The Crime of Being Small by Clover Mullins

Nearing my expiration,
taking wing
through the merciless cloudburst,
I find shelter
past a pane 
of crystalline glass.

I promise
I only meant to stay
for a moment,
but after seeing
a kaleidoscope 
of prismatic designs
and feeling the
comforting glow
of a moon
I have longed
to touch,
why would anyone
want to leave?

When I saw you,
I thought you 
a goddess;
your aroma of wild rose
and foliaged kingdom
proved you
an offspring
of Gaia.
You nurture the Earth,
speaking melodies
of sugar
to the soil and trees,
in an attempt
to give back
all you had taken.

When you saw me,
through your eyes
I was molded into
a winged,
blood-bathed beast,
sword sewn
into my side.
Though frightened
by the sight of me,
you found 
the softest weapon
to return me
to the sky;
a prison
of pyrex
and a leaf
of fallen tree.

I was so fragile
and frayed.
I couldn't abscond
if I wanted to.
I shut my eyes
and prayed
that you would be
of my intrusion,
and give me
a gentle demise.

You could have
persecuted me,
if you wanted.
Torn off my wings,
cut off my limbs,
and left me
to suffer
for the crime 
of being small
in the wrong place,
but instead
you gave me pity.

I hope 
your last moments
are spent
just as mine,
surrounded by solace
and treated sympathetically.
I hope 
you find
the sun. 

Clover Mullins is a junior at Wolfe County High School in Campton, Kentucky. It loves writing more than anything; poetry is its favorite outlet. It hopes to one day publish a collection of writing. 

return to Ironwood             home