Sunday, April 17, 2011

I Was Going to Call

April, 10th, 2011

With thoughts of contrition

When a brush of the neck

Revealed a stowaway

From the bike ride home.

An inchworm whom I nearly smooched

Had been clinging to my skin.

When prodded with finger

She froze, still as a stick, bright green

Standing erect in the strength of her stance.

I left my desk

Putting down the phone

Remorse to the pocket

Walked downstairs

Opened the door

Stepped over the cat

To place you on a shrub

Next to the porch.

After a breath you continued climbing,

Searching out the highest point,

Feeling each step out, carefully,

Only to dive again into the sky?

Is that really your life’s work

To jump until you can jump no more

Or ‘til wings sprout

Just before the landing

From persevering insanity?

The next time I plan to make a call

That would dig me deeper,

I will try to climb like you,

Long and harrowing be the journey,

Until at the pinnacle

I cast off all fear

And experience

The rapture of letting go.

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