Falling

Jackson Pollock, Black Flowing, No. 8

Jackson Pollock, Black Flowing, No. 8

Where
does it come from,
that feeling:
standing on the edge
of a tall building
holding the railing
looking down
what is it inside us
that wants to jump?
From the center of the chest,
this impulse,
to jump,
then
fall
 
off the edge of the known
like a cliff diver
through clouds – air – water
 
It frightens us
this feeling
making us step back
but what if we stay
at the edge,
and feel
 
the uncoiling,
letting go
falling
through a sky of knives
 
Falling through time and
plans and promises
and life.
Letting go,
falling from blue into grey
 
And what if we don’t fall?
What if we fly?

This was written in response to a promp by Karin at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  The Pollock image is from Tess at Magpie Tales writing group.