By Katherine Johnson
February 14, 2016 – Seattle to Phoenix
Nearly to the day, five years past, I boarded a jet and flew away alone, from myself and to a Phoenix.
Now, alone again, I fly, on wings that are nothing more than ideas hammered solid; is this not faith too?
And when I land, imperfect memory will fail; how did the air sound rubbing past metal, how the cabin rocked, a cradle on wings. Too, I will forget the casino bell sound the gentle murmurs around me made.
Nearly to the day, fifteen years past, I held you in my arms, wings that dared defy the gravity of life, that cradled you in my hopes.
Now, alone again, I am forced to terms that my hopes were my fears, a carnival masquerade, that you would become me; is this not gravity too?
And when I land in Phoenix, reflections of the face I will avoid that failed you with imperfect love and dropped you to earth.
Copyright 2016 By Katherine Johnson – All Rights Reserved