Carry Me

Carry Me

Oh what a wonderful day to have a picnic in the forest. As I lay in the shade of these tall wonders with the sun racing through the leaves and the birds swimming in the air. So bright and Breezy. Alone and at peace, nothing is to be heard but the slow tune of a flute and a harp in the wind and passing animals. And what a world to imagine the flowers with wings and faces. Like butterflies so angelic, and happy. And as I lay here under the trees, they swarm out from the shining light. All of different colors and shapes so graceful, and pure. All but one that’s dark and angry. Black and red in color and sharp spinney wings that move mechanically and robotic. All are singing and humming beautifully but this one majestic creature screaming. And all the while these beautiful fairies collect and bring me flowers; this one brings me thorns and weeds.

What could bring so much anger and madness to such a small being? Envy? Misfortune? Disadvantage? Or is it made fun of for not being beautiful? Can it be lost, or mistaken? Or just empty? Can it be that such a small creature has feelings and emotions as I do under these trees? How can something so small fit a heart as big as mine inside? I can’t possibly expect it to love or hate as strongly. For what has it to do but fly away and leave its troubles? Is it mad at me or the world, for it brings me thorns and weeds? How can something so small fit a brain as big as mine inside? I can’t expect it to know wrong from right. Perhaps this creature has it backwards and simply doesn’t know any better. Maybe it doesn’t know who to blame for its own madness in the world. How can something so small fit arms and legs as strong as mine inside? How can I expect it to know its strengths and weaknesses in this world? How is it to know its power on the world? How can something so small fit eyes as big and bright as mine inside? It must not see the world I do. I see it much much bigger than it will ever see it. Or ears as big and great hearing as I, for it is but a small creature. I cant expect it to find joy in the slow tune of the harp and flute of the forest? How can it hear itself scream or sing? How can it fit a nose to smell the flowers, or grandma’s pecan pie? How can something so small fit a mouth as loud as mine? It must not be able to speak up for what it believes in, or say what it wants.

So how can it have feelings and emotions as I do, how can something so small be so unhappy and mad? And as the others continue to bring me flowers, this lonely fairy still brings thorns and weeds. So I ask, “Why are you so sad?” It says, “I am not sad, I am unique, this is who I am.” And then without a stutter, as I glanced over at the rest of the fairies, it asked, “But how can you be so happy for you cannot fit my wings on your big and strong body and fly away from your troubles.” I said, “No silly, your wings can’t carry me from the thorns and weeds as strong and fast as my sense of wonder, sight, smell, touch, and hearing. I have the power to switch off what I don’t believe in.” Then it said, “But then how will I remain happy without your senses?” and I said, “follow me and Ill share mine with you.” I showed it the rose gardens, the blue-jays, the lakes and ducks,

The smell of freshly baked cookies, the touch of my hand in a hug, the sound of the birds like flutes and harps slowly tuning in the forest, and the feeling of laughter as it began to be happy again. Slowly its wings curved down, and its eyes went happy again. It flew away with a flower in its hand and a smile on its face. “Thank you for reminding me what I have. I’m so powerful.”