The Wings Are Mine

flames and wings lo res

Flames and Wings; 2015, re-worked 2016; 15.5″ x 19.5″; mixed media: ink, watercolor, acrylic.

Like a dense, winged creature
draped across my chest,
it caws over charred dreams,
disintegrating into ashes.

But still the fire rages.
What is left to burn?
The bird’s merciless wings fan
flames hotter and heavy.

Until a moment of inexplicable release.
A force of goodness beating the creature back,
forcing it to lift.

And then transformation.

Bitter black wings of fire melt
into brilliant-hued sparks of hope.
There is always hope.

What is left now
is indestructible,

Now the wings are mine,
I fly high,
powerfully alive.


When I first painted a series in 2015 called “Out of Flames… Wings”, I could not find words to express what they meant. Still, ordinary words fail. I’ve circled back to re-work one of the paintings in the series, still trying to integrate its truth into my soul. Only poetry at this point seems to touch the meaning. I hope the art and poem can somehow give hope to anyone who is fighting hard to hope. Your wings are coming.


3 thoughts on “The Wings Are Mine

  1. It’s hard to describe the effect that these powerful words had on me – a kind of physical jolt. Of recognition maybe? Or maybe purely the shock of hard truth and beauty. I can feel it at the bone level.


    • Thank you so much my friend. I suppose it’s a personal twist on our very great and true promises that our sufferings in this world are creating a weight of eternal glory that we can’t even imagine right now.


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