Guided off the roof,
she floated through gravity without restraint.
Non-clenching. An easeful descent.
She wanted to ride the big kid’s bike.
Bold, toes pointed,
barely touching the pedals.
The training wheels came off too soon.
Oh Precious little seed—
petals sprouted before roots.
Letting the wind guide the way,
your feet never fully touched the ground.
An abstract concept.
It all started with a belly flop off the high dive,
and then it was any kind of rush just to feel alive.
Heavy handed on the throttle,
careening down the mountain—
A fearless grace they love to call courage—
In this case it’s just a wild fuse,
burning out with no kindling to nourish.
You may love the ride,
But you need solid ground to flourish.
Start from Scratch.