On the ground I lay,
The watchers watch.
I look up-
I stand,
despite their eyes.
They watch and watch.
I stretch out my wings,
as they look.
Scars shown proudly,
Through their sharp stairs.
I use those wings-
Those wings of mine.
Raising above the lookers,
As they watch.
Their hatred folds inward;
Having no one to watch.
Alone with themselves,
And their gazes.
I fly,
Free,
Finally.
The sky no longer heavy-
With their eyes.
The wind sings my name.
Rising Above
-Micah Maher
November 13,2025
.
