Flying 

A couple of years ago 

I drove up to the overlook

It has squeaky metal swings

And a basic wooden post

With chain swags barrier

To show visitors where not to go

I sat on one of those stupid swings

Hanging from fat chain links

Feeling the wind come up the 

1700 foot hillside

And whip through my hair

Listening to the obscene complaints

From the old swings as they moved

I sat there

Staring at the Chemung River

Winding its way through my

Home town

Dividing the city north

And south

Watching a train

Rumble along the railroad which

Used to divide it east

And west

And I wondered

What it would feel like

To leap off the edge

I sat there

Squelching sobs inside my chest

Tears cutting determined paths

Down my face

And tried to determine if it would work…

I’ve tried, you see, 

And it hasn’t.

Of course,

I’ve considered it far more

Than I’ve attempted it,

But it would seem

That God has other plans

For which, right now,

I am very grateful 

Because I can still see the beauty 

Of the valley below 

And dream of having wings to fly

Rather than forcing human limbs

Unfeathered 

To take fearful flight

And know I’m blessed

In this little life of mine.

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