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
