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Airborne
Getting where I'm going seems like struggle,
maybe it really is, but what I learn in looking back is that I glean and juggle those things I want, and those for which I yearn; boiling these pots and not letting one burn. People always seem to ice my runway prompting me to slip and slide and crash just as earth and my feet begin to splay, they hurl at me bullshit and balderdash, despite it I take off with much panache. My flight is meditation in the air a never-ending journey, I'm reborn far from money and its green despair, far from people, safe from shame and scorn tethers torn now I am free, airborne. © 2014 Nicholas Emeigh |
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Part of the group "Record-A-Poem," and part of the Playlist "The Poetry of Nicholas Emeigh" which includes 40+ other poems.
Notes: This poem was written on Wednesday, January 29, 2014. It's about transcending the reality that includes other people--what they think and say--and getting in touch with the joy and freedom within yourself.
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