Security line snakes
People curling up inside
Life forces draining through soles shuffling forward
Onward
Bound for somewhere
But first and second
another numbered gate
Bitterness settles in the crook in my shoulder
Burdened by sagging strap
Levity hanging by a thread
A movement catches my attention
high above
Sparrow trapped and circling
Compassion blooms
Softening the defeated curvature of spine and bone
Here this small bird
Scraps aplenty on the floor
But no sky to soar aloft
It will be stuck here
I’ll be home soon I whisper
Spread my feet
Feel the pats down my boots and motorcycle jeans
Smile into the security guards eye
A bird is only truly free in flight
Or is that just a human projection?
*hold on to your spirits tail and it will carry you free ..
I am home, I love this road. I run or walk down it almost every morning when I am here, my face turned to the rising sun. In the evening the sky is ablaze with colour, the power poles silhouetted like sinners searching for redemption from their crosses.
I have a thousand photos in my phone of it:
And yet, I haven’t resettled. I am like the sparrow searching for an exit that exists inside the morass of memory and experience, a portal through which I left weeks ago and now can’t find a way to re-enter.
My entire body is still in that odd place betwixt and between. This morning I rode my motorbike and it feels odd, heavy, cumbersome, after the light agility of the postie bike. It revved and huffed and hurtled – the throttle pressure is different. It cut out entirely as I descended through the gears!on my way home, my back wheel skidded as I snicked it into neutral under travel and restarted it before braking. Sticky fuel perhaps – I’ll have to take it to the mechanic next week.
Sigh.
All that is required is time.
And enough hasn’t passed by yet.
I’ll keep searching.
I felt boxed in reading this —-
Ahh that was not the intention at all John, perhaps take your shoes off and lie in the grass for awhile – there is a sky within and without – unfortunately my ceiling is a bit covered in glass at the moment 😊
good advice; I will have another read —
No further reading required John, perspective is something we writers can only write from and not to – however you receive it is correct ✅
Put some fresh petrol in the bike, and go for a good run on it to get re-aquainted.
Yes, drop the fuel out I think. I just didn’t like the way it stopped at 60 clicks and in third – wouldn’t like that on the highway 😬 I’ll run it past the bike shop on Monday for a tune and reboot – the brain maps whatever we use as an extension to us and after ten days straight on the smaller machine mine is still attuned to a different beast 😊
this is a poem about being boxed in too and the compassion for all those that are; thankfully the Gaza impasse seems to have lifted; go for a god ‘burn’ and you’ll feel better —
This is true John, very true 😊
life continues with one foot forward and one foot back. Loved hearing your reflections with wheels spinning in passion and quandary, Kate. 💕
Thanks Cindy, and lovely to hear from you ❣️
You’re so very welcome, always Kate. First day of freedom until the other shoe just dropped.. lol xo
That image of the sparrow circling with no sky to soar in really struck me. I feel that same sense of being between worlds.
Much love,
David
David, lovely to hear from you 😊
*hug*