Baggage

Flying and Walking on Clouds

When you fly above the clouds,
believe you can drop down
to their absolute austerity
to walk across the vast,
uncolored plain of isolation
dragging your baggage behind you
as its old, worn, tow rope
cuts and burns into your shoulder,
the burden causing your body to bend
such that your heart is ahead of your feet,
your head is ahead of your heart,
and thoughts are not to be found.
As your steps grow long and slow,
and the perilous thinning of cloud
tells you to leave the bags
to be lost and alone
in their great, heavy mass,
stretch yourself thin,
arms and legs dispersing your weight
as you lie prone
on your own cold crucifix
in the effort to save your Self.
Vapor’s coldness
pools on the skin,
drips from the eye,
falls as rain,
creating a hole in the whiteness,
a path in the air that will carry you,
rolling over and over and down,
to finally land softly
on earth nourished to green
by your tears.​​

 

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