On Impact

I am watching you from a distance;

watching you fall

for hours,

for days,

for years,

or for a lifetime.

Tumbling

out of the sky,

sometimes gracefully,

sometimes pin wheeling down

in utter terror.

 

I used to think

I would catch you;

just figure out where you would land

and be there.

Thought I was strong,

but then,

I couldn’t catch myself,

so now I’m certain

that trying to catch you

will kill us both.

 

I don’t know

what pains me more;

the powerlessness,

or the knowledge

of how hard

the Earth is

on impact.

 

I thought that I

might fly to meet you

up in the air

and bring you down,

but my wings

are not yet growing

and my days of defying gravity

are all behind me.

 

I guess that all I can do

is try to find

just where you’ll hit

and assemble

a tumblers net,

dig a big hole

and fill it with something

that might give you

a chance at survival.

 

I can see you getting closer, now.

Closer to the ground.

I’m so afraid for you

and a little relieved

that your fall is almost over.

I hope that I have done enough

to slow your

terminal velocity,

so you

don’t die

on impact.

 

We never pack a parachute.

 

HG -2018

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