Posts Tagged ‘risk’

One Impossible Act?

falling from the high wire—
now’s a good time
to learn to fly

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Warning Label

In the small print that doesn’t appear on my wrist
when you shake my hand, it says, Not advised
for those with low tolerance to weeping. It says,
For those allergic to intimacy, recommend low dosage.
It says, Close contact is associated with a high risk
of being included as a subject in poems.
Oh, blah, blah, blah. Everything comes with a warning label
these days. So many potential risks when we connect.
Like irrational happiness. Like loss. Like grief.
Like a deepening love that will never go away.

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Perhaps Next Time



Vast and powerful,

the invitation

like a sea

with a surf

and unknowable tides—


I do not want to stay

on the shores

of my life.

I want to run headlong

into the waves,

to feel myself buoyed

and challenged,

to know myself

as one who risks,

who emerges


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One Out of the Comfort Zone




stepping off the cliff

half a moment before the ground

growing wings

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When you walk along a cliff

and look over the edge,

a bit of the cliff will find its way

into your thoughts


and there, that place where

you were feeling quite safe

just a moment ago, now feels

charged with exposure.


Just today, a cliff said to me

that if I only would jump

then perhaps I would find my wings,

or perhaps then a tender angel


would deliver me—

you will never know,

said the cliff, if you keep walking

in that same direction you always walk—










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Given a Window




It’s a dangerous thing, the window,

with its curtains pulled to the sides—


it allows you to see through the walls,

but it doesn’t allow you to leave.


It shows you another possible world

while you are still shadowed inside.


And what is the voice that says, Jump?

And what is the voice that says, Hide?


And which voice is louder today?

And which voice chants low, a resonant drum,


Jump, it says, Jump, jump, jump,

to hell with the fall, and when you land,


if you’re not broken, run.

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Matter of Time

In the boat
how could she know,
fixed as she was
upon the waves,
about the leakage,
small and slow
and of the sharks
that swam below—
she had hungers,
too, and so
toward distant shores
she rowed, she rowed
not noticing
the water cold
around her feet
and how it rose
I think about
her bailing.

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