I stand on the edge of a cliff. I believe with all of my being I can fly, (because it takes belief and not wings). I stand on my tiptoes and stretch. I raise my arms to the sky, draw in breath and ready to soar: one two three— I am not. I am not rising in the air. I try a different approach. I bend to the ground. Focus the muscles of my back and thighs, tighten my toes. I tighten my whole body to my body: a coil ready to spring. Up, and down again. The sky opens. Three crows form a triangle in a deep blue patch. Third attempt: I climb onto a rock. The rock is not flat and I teeter to balance. I desire to fly so desperately; to free myself from the burden of ground. The sorrow of my flightlessness turns to storm. Dark clouds gather in my torso. My arms crackle with lightning. The sky is smoldering black. Rock upon rock of disbelief weights me. I will never fly. I will never be apart from dead ground. Flags of smoke and flame; the brush and fallen trees ablaze— Frantic fire in my path = no escape. A crow, impossibly large, swoons above me then drops. On its magnificent black back, it takes me up, up and away.
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© 2014 CLM
7 thoughts on “Flight”
Strong imagery in a compressed space.
Thank you, Sam. I have been mused to write short prose pieces. Thinking of a new manuscript of this form…
Wonderful, but then I am awfully attached to crows. This whole brief piece writing project looks fascinating. It is, I think, a natural outgrowth of poetry. In an era where people recoil from the broken line, perhaps poetry is just preparation for what’s next.
Thanks, The Typist! I am about to post something about this project. Really, thank you.
My own project on ToulouseStreet.net–365–began as an attempt to break writer’s block but is also an attempt to combine personal narrative with something inspired by poetry that is not precisely the excessively surrealistic conventional prose poem.
I just clicked Follow. I look forward to reading you.
Although lately, it has tended toward journal/memoir, which is how the whole damn blog started.
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