Wings

I dreamed of falling
every night
plummeting
sometimes from a bridge
or a cliff
and sometimes
just falling
no beginning 
no end

But one night 
I dreamed I grew wings
they were made of feathers
and they were red
with blood
and they hurt
like someone 
was stabbing me
in the back

I learned 
to tolerate the pain
and I took to the sky
and I flew
the pain left
and I was no longer 
afraid 
of falling 
to my death