Learning to Fly
You breathe in the February air,
brittle, cold, raw, beautiful.
The trees silhouettes cut crisp against the sky.
This is it. You and God. Nothing between you,
The weight of your past heavy on your soul.
You feel undeserving of this beauty,
Of the gift of life and love that is yours,
full of warmth and passion and a wild safety
so undeserved you could not have imagined it.
But here you are,
in the midst of simplicity and grace,
ready to release the last of your burdens,
no longer content to walk in grace,
About this poem
I work hospice work a couple of days a week. One of the things I have learned is that most of us carry some burden around with us, often until the end of life. I have seen first hand what happens when people finally release that burden. People’s spirits are visibly lightened. It is transformative.