Mid-air

There have been a basketful of moments this Autumn where I walk the sidewalk in loss.

Each step recalls a memory shared, a future compromised. The word "failure" encircles me. 

I think it's not quite the right word for what took place.

"Hurricane" or "vertigo" feel more equipped to carry the weight of all that was. 

And these moments on pavement are not ones of presence or observation.

The cars pass me by and they could be ambulances, gritty New York cabs with giant rats in the front seat, or my mother's silver Acura all the same. 

I don't notice them because I'm remembering you.

Every so often (so stupidly seldom), I will catch a leaf mid-air. 

Traveling, spiraling, dancing, singing down towards the sidewalk I'm barely on.

These moments jolt me into paralysis and there I stand- linked into the witnessing of a three-second free fall. An angelic and equally slutty flirting with the wind. The crazy trip from branch to rain-smothered sidewalk. 

It really only takes a quick glance to catch it but sometimes watching the drama start to finish feels like watching an entire lifetime go by. Time feels different on my body and within my heart lately and this process, however momentary, in actuality, is a lengthy and euphoric one. 

The falling leaves invite me to meditate on other blips of natural occurrences. I will never get to see them all. But I'm not so bitter about this. The ones I catch are well worth all that I'll miss.

A thunderbolt of lightning piercing a southern sky.

 It's a second for me but how long is it for the cloud?

This life is a wave crashing against sand, only to come back again. It's a leaf on a trip returning home. 

It's me starting over and the sadness taking forever. 

It's so it good it hurts sometimes.