The Courage to Fall: Capturing a moment

 

Malevich 1915

She fell this morning. Took the recliner with her.
Afterall, it’s built for sitting on, not grabbing
its back for support. Her fall detector watch was
across the room charging next to her new cell phone.
 
Talk about an ounce of prevention!  But she was
lucky.  Because of the chair, she escaped a head-
on collision.  She landed on one knee, perfect
for prayer, easy to ice later when reclining.
 
So easy for feet to tangle in bed clothes, and
to slide away from her on ice and on smooth floors.
Easy for hips, knees, and ankles to twist away
from familiar pathways she perambulates.
 
She fears the landing, each time surviving with new
bruises or cracked teeth. She knows she’s lucky to live
propped up only with canes, banisters, and chair backs,
but she stubbornly goes on anyway, with prayer.
 
Thank you, she prays.  Let’s try again, she prays.  Hold
my hand, she prays. You’re in my heart, she prays.  I think
I see someone walk with her, but whether they are
ancestors, conjures of spirits, or God, she won’t say.
 
And the falls? Why don’t the presences prevent them?
She smiles.  They're reminders, she says, that our bodies are
where we live, that senses—yes, the five, and then
sense of space, balance, and movement, are truly gifts.

April is Poetry Month #8

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© 2023 Susan L. Chast