He leans on wings that he does not use.
Resting back on these folded things that he dare not expose.
He tried them out once, and their span covered such a space, and set off such a gust that it shook him.
Startled to his core by their measure of strength.
By the distance of their reach.
And he marveled at the strength in his own shoulders to bear the weight of such a thing.
But put them away for fear of being noticed – of being different.
He walked around hunched over, appearing to hold some great burden – cloaked in plain clothes.
And all of the rest where he lived, walked with their burdens.
Burdens carried on strong backs.
Cowering underneath the greatness that they too carried.
Under wings that they dared not show.
If only one of them would have shared what they feared, they’d all be free to fly.