Labor Pains
by Denise Fuehrer Burnette
Like a bird
I flew
weightlessly
through the sky
of hope
and endless possibility
Over the horizon
I could see
in my mind’s eye
the promised land
that someday
certainly
I would reach
Others laughed
from there safe haven below
weighted by the chains
of reality
and the blinders of fear
And I pitied them
in my foolishness
as if I was not as blind as they
so mesmerized by my fantasy
that I did not realize
the weight of those chains
the darkness of those blinders
Now, as I wade through
this murky sea of possibility
I realize
that dreaming is light
and beautiful
and the fire for becoming
but alone, dreaming is just dreaming
And doing,
doing is heavy
and dark
and it’s weight can crush
even the best of the dreamers
But dreaming without doing
is no greater a fate
than doing without dreaming
One soul in the heavens
the other on earth
neither with the power
to move mountains
one without vision
the other without hands
It is the brave soul
with one foot in each world
the dreamer
who despite the pain of labor
gives birth to her dreams
who sculpts the chaos of becoming
into a masterpiece of being