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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

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