Balancing Act

days of heavy rain and shades of gray
that even hope has given up on
have drenched her clothes,
soaked through to the skin.
rivulets of water
run down her back and thighs
and fill up her boots.
heavy with weather and longing
and running from the inevitable,
she’s lost any grace
she managed to muster
and drag through the years.
still, in a singular act of defiance
against the sky or heart
or greater things than that,
she straps on her wings and flies
to the red desert to dry out.
there, at the crumbling edge of the canyon,
that great crack in the earth,
the brink of everything and nothing
where the improbable sky
stretches it’s arms out wide,
there she stands on one trembling leg
with the wind pushing and pulling at her back.
eyes closed,
heat waves rise around her head
and steam climbs
under pressure from the sun.
there, where the hand of god
is bold and beckoning,
she leans out over the edge
just far enough to need a miracle.

later, when forgiveness has cooled the day
her clothes fly themselves back
to the sodden city from where she came
but instead of rain they find
a dry sky has broken out.
since no journey ends
without another beginning,
they follow the crowds
to a downtown station
and board an east-bound train.
dry now, and fresh from the winds they traveled
they drape themselves across a seat
beside a man she never met
in the last car on a train
going somewhere new.

Eastbound Train

you'll know when you get there

This entry was posted in Agony and Ecstacy, Eternal Optismism, Life, Poetry, Relationships, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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