#3.30.21

I.

I am lifted-

high above the quilt of land & it’s scattered little puddles,

floating in a sea of delicious clouds.

I am almost Icarus-like, but his wax wings are replaced with metal.

What a beautiful world I come from- a beauty I couldn’t see  until it was beneath me.

II.

Fear creeps in again. Is this the thing I’ve dreaded?

Delay, delay, delay with no reason given.

Trapped in a shaking tin can circling idyllic clouds in search of land

& I’m alone. Alone.

III.

Relief floods me in one deep breath.

We are permitted to land.

I see the earth peeking out between the clouds, curved & covered iin stretch-mark rivvers.

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