Red Kite

I watch as the kite dances in the wind.
It's redness contrasts with the sky.
The wind's angry rhythm ever so present.
Trying to take the kite prisoner.

The draught's violence only but grows.
A multitude of leaves fly around me,
Obeying mother nature's commands.
I continue to hold onto the piece of string.

As I look at the kite's turbulence.
I can see myself soaring through the sky.
I see all the memories trying to break free.
I can see my anger raging with the wind.

I look at the red kite, remembering.
I remember the pain I went through.
I remember all the grief I kept inside.
I remember the night a piece of me was stolen.

I look at the red kite, tears in my eyes.
The string keeps it from being free.
Slowly, I say a prayer into the night.
As my hand releases the red kite.
I finally let go...

© Fighter

*once again, this is a metaphore.