My Beloved Kite

I hold on loosely to my kite so it can fly high with the wind.
As a result, it almost slipped away.
I slashed my palm while grabbing it back.
It’s back with me now and I’m holding on so tight it hurts.
As long as the kite’s with me, all the pain is worth it.
But who’s to say in future that it won’t be cut off by another kite?


Supposing another kite slices off the thin kite thread,
that I am holding on with my life.
I can’t fly up to catch it.
I can only watch in agony and despair.
Watch as it freely flies higher and higher.
And then vanish from my horizon.


I know that it will someday fall back down to the ground.
And maybe get stuck on a tree.
And when that day comes, I will be there to pick it up.
No matter how stained it would have become.
I will still hold it in my arms and shed those tears of joy.
Because my beloved kite is back with me.


I reminisce the good times it has had with me.
I thank it for the laughter it has brought to me.
Nobody understands.
Why I love my kite so much despite its imperfections.
Its delicate thread. Its simple design.
Yet it seemed so perfect to me.


Now that it is stained and far from glory,
It is still my beloved kite.
I will not despise it.
I will not ostracize it.
But how do I fly it while fearing that it will slip away again?
My palms bleed and my arms hurt. And I am tired.