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Friday, January 28, 2011

Still in the stars

Still in the stars

Six Canada Geese descend
toward the water, arcing slightly
to the left, with perfect velocity, precise
angles.  They glide on outstretched wings,
only micro-adjustments of feathered-bodies-in-space.

Witnessing, held, I hold
my breath. I am on an airplane
descending toward the tarmac: gut
going two directions, dropping down
and churning, my heart
fleeing into my throat,
in a prayer for
safe landing.

I have flown like that, my body
is remembering!  Perhaps a favorite
dream? Or my life as a bird? (Maybe
I was previously a silly goose!)

Yearning
or remembering?  When
my daughter was barely
four years old, she asked me,

“Mama, do you remember when we were still in the stars?"
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Note: This is a rendering of my essay "Yearning and remembering" in poetic form, thanks to my colleague and friend Simeon Dreyfuss.


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