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All I wanted was to fly higher,
to find endless skies.

Men determined too much of my life:
a father, giddy from flights of wine
who came crashing down
from his career and then we had to leave
one town after another until I found
more promising horizons and offers
to soar into the unknown.

But why did fame always greet me
with men who wanted marriage
to keep me safe and home?

I had to prove them wrong,
to fly higher and solo,
to hold my own and not drown
if I came too close to the sun.

All along, though, I knew
someday I would come down
so far that I would never
again leave the ground,
and men who ground me forever
except when they decide to tease me
about my one last flight
as if perhaps I’m still around
like a myth who never leaves
with wings intact or broken,
whose final act is interrupted,
tragic and unspoken.

Written by Rüdiger Rückmann
on 8 July 2017

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