Life With Horace

poetry & essays

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Tiptoe to a full on run

It is my turn to jump
into the hero’s journey,
face first two miles up
but with no roar
of penetrated air
drawing every sense
as I fall free, knowing
this a dream to ease
my heart’s reset.

I rip the cord,
look back,
there is no prickly
pilot chute of skulking anger,
only honest tears flung up
to join the clouds,
my testament to
innocence and joy,
the early days of
rose tinged hope.

A silken arc of honesty
slows me to a gentle float
compelling truth,
namely, that this jump
will save my soul.

Earth comes up fast
and I begin to walk
on timid toes,
then gaining speed
I leap and raise my fist
exulting, thankful
to have known great love,
running on to meet
my warrior fate.

A nod to my inner tough chick