Skip to main content

A Poem called "Flight of the Phoenix"

Art credit: Manoela Costa, Artstation.

Art credit: Manoela Costa, Artstation.

Flight of the Phoenix ~

A young bird will caress its own feathers,
Slanted eyes filled with hope and love.
By default, all fledglings are reckless,
And the hellfire will crush it from above.

Its world must inevitably fall apart,
Life itself will let little one down.
From the land of living it shall wish to depart,
Tragedy of existence will force the bird to drown.

Obscure flames of agony will burn through,
Destroying feathers, skin, flesh, blood, and bone.
Fire baptism of its own making shall pursue,
Until the ashes on the battlefield remain alone.

In due course, a wind would touch the lost soul,
And reach what remains blowing from the skies.
The legend that follows is known by all:
From the ashes, a Phoenix shall rise.

The reborn bird is always much stronger,
And the cruel world can influence it less.
The love of newcomer forever lasts longer,
With the ability to fly higher than anyone else.

- A Poet in Attempt

~ About the Poem

The temptations and trials of life are always great. Every once in awhile, they're too difficult. There are times when all of us simply stumble through our years. Everyone gets hurt or run over, or completely crushed. Sometimes, we fall apart and then we take the time to mend, to pick up the pieces. Healing is hard. Suzanne Collins once said: It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart. That might be true. What matters is that we try.

It's a circle of life. We walk and fall, break our bones and crush our soul. Then we stand up again, fight over and over until we fall, and stand up, and fall. Countless times, again and again, up and down, and down and up. Humans are like phoenixes, and everyone can rise from the ashes.

Here's to all the brave and amazing people in the world, who walked through hell, and got out of it stronger. Once, or more than once.

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”

— Charles Bukowski

© 2020 Ivana Divac