When I was a child
I never slept at naptime.
I would slowly rise up
to the ceiling and
look down
at my
silent self,
then fly around the room
and out the window.
I’d check on the nest
in the tree outside my window
then go up, through the branches
up through clouds
into the sunshine,
far enough to see the curve of the Earth
pale, in the distance.
As I grew older
my flight time diminished;
still, I excelled in science class
when we learned about meteorology
and cloud formations.
I remembered my time
among them, and counted them
as friends
As an adult,
I have a fear of heights.
I left behind the foolishness,
and the magic,
of flying away from my body
until this morning…
Something is different
and familiar -
a feeling in the back of my throat,
perhaps a change in
barometric pressure
(or grown-up life pressures).
I feel a lightness I haven’t felt in ages…
and the rushing up.
I look down at myself,
zoom once around the room ,
then sail out the window
and across the open field
down the road and out over the ocean.
And now I know,
I was never afraid of heights,
I was afraid
that once I left
I would
never come back.
Check out Magpie Tales by Tess Kincaid for more responses to the image, or add your own. Image by Martin Stranka. This is also linked to IGRT open link night. Go there to read a variety of wonderful poems by some fabulous toads.
