gravity

in a theory of loss,
one must understand a pro and antagonist.

gravity, that malicious fiend,
the one who would do more to force
behaviour than any other.

fruit falls,
stars too,
even the ones that glimmer
only in the mind’s eye.

bouncing out of the state
of wretched attraction to the
friction-laden floor
is tricky, to say the least.

tigger’s tail, wound
like a snail inside its future casket
might do the trick.

and?

shadows descend,
clouds too,
even the ones that once
contained the heavens.

rising from the coop
is more involved than a morning ritual
when the darkness focuses
on instilling its gloom.

a torch, beaming
like a lighthouse’s beckon
might reach here.

so?

as a child of the state,
he was supposed to be under
the ultimate of protection.

turning my back,
I did more than simply fetch his things.
I left, with more than a casual release of my focus,
the whims of the universe to mend their tears
and create their seams of new realities.

I suffered immensely.
the ripples of protectionism
stemming from years of isolation
left me with these feelings of
survival.

the hostility of the moment,
composed of the elegant countdown
of three. two. and one.
gave me enough pause
to realize the sanctity of what
preciousness we are given,
in our physical and emotional relationships.

I dislike gravity,
for it grounds those who want to fly.

but it also gives me solid footing.
I now know there is something
beneath the path I will tread.