A Broken Feather On A Trail

There was a broken feather on this dry rocky trail, far away from what was supposed to be its destiny, and a short way from being swept by the wind into thin air.

The backbone was imperfect due to being stepped on and the fur was crumpled on some parts, yet its identity intact, subtly gleaming with its natural silky gradient.

I wonder how it had ended up there. Maybe it’s plucked from its source, hurt, forcefully taken by a sharp deadly beak of its enemy. But not all ugly things fallen means a defeat or a battle lost.

Shedding an old feather to make space for new ones to emerge is hurtful, but can be a beautiful thing. It never evaporates, the crumbs left on the trail is often a reminder of how far one has come, an unforeseen showstopper on the runway, a stamp bestowed for each act of bravery to be a better self.

A broken feather on a trail is a glass half full, a journey of the underdog to leave a meaningful mark against its bully. Courageously confronting its own darkest trap and spiraling stall of flights, fighting to carve its own liberation and joyous freedom.

So let it be known, let it be celebrated, let it be replaced. The shiny new one is coming.