If I can overcome
this whiteness
that blots out the horizon,
I can conquer my own soul

I didn’t want them to see
my hands shaking on the poles
or how I cried
each time I fell
(like it was something personal)

Funny how the snowflakes bluster
blurring the line
between heaven and earth
and the sound of my voice
is lost in the gusts,

and after a night by the fire
with cassoulet, hot raclette,
tipsy songs and sweat

the blinding clouds
woke me blinking from my window
like pillows to cushion my blows

and stationed in the ether,
a burning white star
that speckled my cheeks
with new mappings of freckles
and left green traces
on the darkness

Funny how my ankles
molded to new angles
and my feet
grew wings
propelling me
through spaces
my rational mind
will have no business with

I wondered if this
is how birds feel
when they finally learn
gravity doesn’t apply
to them

In the empty place beyond terror
or disgrace
I wiped out
until I stopped feeling pain
until I found grace

© Psyche Marks 2007

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