Faith in Flying
Written by Wendy BooydeGraaff
Posted in Poetry
Art by Rachel Coyne
These unusual days, people driving or walking or talking are grating
my nerves: tiny brittle petals of me, littered. Pink. At home, I crochet
these bits into a shapeless sweater. But it’s not smooth. It’s seedy.
Nothing lays flat. I put on my wings, instead, hedged
by the cliffs around me. Flying is a trick
we can all learn. Take a deep breath, let go
enough so the tips of your toes dance on air.
Fly past me. Fly past you. We can all fly, Fran says,
when we don’t think about what we are doing. Do you
believe her? Does it matter? It’s the soaring that counts, the way
what we cling to flutters behind us creating kaleidoscope messages.