Phoenix Rising – A Poem

I am walking

down the street

when the first

feather begins to

emerge from my

skin. It is a

beautiful red hue,

and I can feel

the wind ruffle

the feather. It

feels like a

caress along my

skin and it

feels wonderful. By

the time I

am at the

bus stop, I

have grown twenty

more. Standing there,

waiting for the

bus to arrive,

a woman says:

“Are you like, one of those shape shifters?”

I turn to

look at her

and she is

smiling so brightly

that it is

like she is

carrying light within.

“I don’t think so, no.”

She gives me

a knowing look

and then winks

at me in

a roguish way.

“Well, then you must be in love.

My mother was in love once and she turned into a cardinal.”

I let out

a laugh that

made her shine

even brighter. More

feathers slid out

of my skin,

covering my arms.

“Why did she turn into a cardinal?”

The woman put

a finger to

her chin in

thought for a

moment and said:

“Well, the way she told it was,

people who are in love are changed in some way.

The bird they change into always reflects their love.”

I thought about

the thousands of

birds there were

in the world

and wondered if

any of them

were people in

love. I felt

a thrill of

fire on my

skin. Looked and

saw that it

was now almost

completely covered in

feathers, each one

a different red,

so that when

I moved my

arm, it looked

like fire. I

faced the woman

again and her

mouth was open

in wonder and awe.

“You’re turning into a phoenix!

I bet your love is magical, isn’t it?”

She gave me

another brilliant smile.

“It is.”

I said softly.

“Pheonix’s are rare. Your man must be special.”

She reached out

and took my

hand. I watched

as it softly

formed into a

wide, wing of fire.

“Incredibly special. He’s magic.”

She clapped with

glee and made

a shooing motion

with her hand.

“Then what are you doing here, talking to me?

Go on now, fly on home.”

I nodded and

felt myself growing

smaller and lighter.

The old woman

lifted me up

in her hands

and lifted me

way up high

so that the

wind could take

hold of me.

As the wind

took hold of

my wings and

I knew flight

for the first

time, I looked

down and saw

that the woman

had transformed into

a dove of

the purest white,

so bright that

she glowed softly.

As I watched

her fly away,

I wondered who

she loved.