Safe on the Tightrope

 

 

O, trees I need you now.

Wide or spindly, stand guard.

Catalpa and maple,

blue spruce and white pine,

hold the tightrope I’m on

between my surgery

and my mother’s, a span

of 27 years,

210 miles,

and brain and heart spirals—

There, now, I’ll close my eyes.

Let your crisp smell, warmth,

and familiar presence

take me from here to there.

Let my trust, faith, and love

balance despite absence

as my prayers reach yours.

There now, close your eyes and

trust we’re on our way

safe in these guardians' arms.

 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

   Please respect my copyright. 

 If you quote, credit this page.

     © 2020 Susan L. Chast