Leap

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
For me, this is obvious.

Submitted: November 04, 2008

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Submitted: November 04, 2008

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This choking feeling behind his throat,
What darkened carcinoma tumor of the heart lives there?
He wants to fly.
Leap.
He wants to fly,
But there is no way to except to
Leap—
No feels or sees, smells, or can touch,
The lead blanket, weighing so heavily
Draped horrendously over his body.
Drags him down.
(But shields him from the hot radiation,
Of the perception’s hands,
The peoples thoughts,
The sun of the soul’s smile.)
What is this?
He asks.
This world…
He says.
He’s lost his sense of I
Of who am we?
I
Alone in the dark—
He can’t turn the lamp on,
The switch is broken!
And he’s no handyman of hearts.
But he can close his eyes…
Leap.
See those blue rains dressed in the grey
Fabric of mist.
And watch them scatter like so many dandelion
Seeds
On an autumn wind,
When dawn comes in colors too bright for his eyes.
He has to shield himself.
And his mind flickers open again to the perception of
Blank
Dull
Here and now—
He can feel the wind at his back,
And the sun on his lips,
Sending prismatic forces scurrying down his
Veins, arteries, capillaries…
He can feel gravity pushing on his lead, deadened feet.
He can’t drive past this dead end.
He’ll close his eyes for the healing blue rain and the dawn.
Leap.


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