Could be you feel
like a tiny bird
flapping hard, hard
as you can
into the wind.
Though there
is no sign that says
Dead End,
you are not going
anywhere and can’t
imagine you ever will.
Could be
all that fluttering
exhausts you
until
you stop all that trying
and turn away
from whatever it is
you think
you are flying toward.
And then
perhaps
you understand—
not with your head,
with your whole being—
that wherever the wind
is going to go
it will go. Could be
you find yourself
saying yes to the wind,
the same wind,
you know this, that fills
your lungs.
Could be that it
is so beautiful,
this new kind of flying,
that you forget
to be frightened
that you do not know
what will happen next.
Could be you’ve never
been quite so aware
how infinite
the sky.