Skip to main content

Sunday Muse #158

 


I'll tell you flight is good balance--
Witches don't need to master the sweep
of the wind; we are in its lift.

This is skill. Where the dance
requires the footing and the leap,
we only want the slip.

Let go from the wild branch,
fall backward; join our airy trapeze!
The fear is the trip.


-- chrissa

Comments

  1. Carrie Van HornMay 1, 2021 at 12:57 PM

    There is so much depth to this my friend. The skill the dance and the letting go and that last line is a powerful truth! Love love love this!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. qbitMay 1, 2021 at 1:00 PM

    Witches don't need to master the sweep
    of the wind; we are in its lift. - great.
    .

    ReplyDelete
  3. HelenMay 1, 2021 at 7:27 PM

    I was ready to mention the line qbit referenced, it gave me goosebumpies.

    ReplyDelete
  4. ms_liliMay 1, 2021 at 7:51 PM

    I like the instructional tone and your rhyme scheme here. Great spin on the image.
    Li@tao-talk

    ReplyDelete
  5. Gillena CoxMay 2, 2021 at 6:22 AM

    Nice one. Luv the last line. It sums up the entire process

    Happy Sunday

    Thanks for dropping by to read mine

    Much❤love

    ReplyDelete
  6. JinksyMay 2, 2021 at 6:33 AM

    I'm all for skilful dancing - especially with words. :-) ♥

    ReplyDelete
  7. JimMay 2, 2021 at 5:55 PM

    Happy landings. "Let go from the wild branch, fall backward . . ." I fell frontward but reversed it to backward and broke my big toe. The boot comes off June 3, I can't even drive until then. (Forward would have been into the pool.)
    ..

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. C. SandlinMay 3, 2021 at 12:49 PM

      I hope you're feeling better!! Toe injuries are frustrating.

      Delete
  8. robkistnerMay 3, 2021 at 9:35 AM

    Well written Chrissa, very interesting.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Susie ClevengerMay 3, 2021 at 2:28 PM

    This is awesome! Love your ending!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Doctor FTSEMay 3, 2021 at 11:53 PM

    A very interesting take on vertigo. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Treacle Season

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #190 ,  hosted this week by Carrie. Keaton was great in that show—the one with wings— Where he was constantly a [man]child on a ledge  dreaming an angel who became a superhero.   She was a sarcastic (fake?) angel—it was the 80s— But always good, on time, her lessons easy, Easy as it would have been for him to fall.   The metaphor so obvious...but I didn't get it. Nor the easy and obvious good. (/s)   I watch the TV movie every other December Remembering believing in easy And crushing on this character, that city...   Angels should be sweet, sarcastic figures, knowing (like nurses and social workers) we prefer Sleeping on the ledge, reckless to call for "heroes." To clear up any confusion:  there is no Michael Keaton movie we watch every holiday season. Although, if there were...I'd probably watch it.  -- Chrissa
16 comments
Read more

Turn Away

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the  pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm.  Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story.  Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in the margins of
15 comments
Read more

Out of the Den

  For the Sunday Muse, #166. Deep in the rain, stand and drink. Water that rises carries the need, Remember the trail where it sinks; Deep in the rain, stand and drink. There is a rumble outside as I write. Arthur has come to check on me and has curled up beneath the desk--once James settles down, he'll probably find a more comfortable place to snooze or shiver through the rain. I am, this week, angry. You'd think a wolf would be a goad for finding words for it; not yet. I didn't expect to reemerge and be angry. I expected tears, the occasional panic attack, relief. Instead I am furious and couldn't say why.  -- Chrissa
16 comments
Read more