Did you ever feel
up in the air —
not floating cloud-like,
not suspended in iridescence
like the hummingbird hungrily
at nectar,
not lazy-winged like
the August butterfly,
but trapped
on unmoving legs,
your eyes,
— soul-windows, they say —
staring, as if in unbelief,
and you wonder
are you outside looking in
or inside looking out
as
emptiness flows through you,
misfit,
puzzle to yourself
and passersby,
monument to the improbable,
blaring your incongruence,
a breath away from cracking?
Linked to Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge,
with yet more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
Oddments 