You could have a big dipper   

Growing Pains by Ellie Fatharly



The arena: a hollow shell.

Not quite my nest to rest,

But a familiar swing in a cage,

That once rocked me to sleep.


Wings forced me out.

Claws punctured skin.



A new burrow to keep.

A hare suffocated by soil.


Trading feathers for fur,

And memories of lighter views.

Despite my larger frame,

With only the earth to spoil.


April returns,

Craving a gentle, salt wind.

The song you once whistled;

A tune cried out for few.


Dark beads hunt the sky;

Catch the breast that held me,

And painted my walls baby blue.




Now migrating to the South.



 

Ellie Fatharly is an MA student at The University of Lincoln studying Creative Writing. Her honesty and vulnerability can be seen throughout her experimental poetry as she tries to grow through her uncertain, early twenties. Twitter handle - @Ellie_fatharly


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