20 years

Fly away, child.
I come to the mountains once a year
these words a constant refrain in my head
gazing at snowy peaks
feeling that heart-skip over dizzy drop-offs.

The child never listens.
I am her and she is me
and I cannot cast myself off a mountain
though I dream of thermaling upward
like a turkey vulture
living beyond death.

Fly away, child.
A whisper I send to the past.
I try to remember –
did I hear me
among summer birdcalls
his grunts
her whimpers?

Fly away, child.
She didn’t.
Almost the opposite,
she went deep
tunneling into me,
a mask she created in her blood
his sweat
her tears
and the rustling of trees in a light breeze
blue blue sky with leaf-ragged edges
calling her
to soar.

Poem by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com.


4 thoughts on “20 years

  1. It’s hard to find the right words to express the emotions this piece stirred, but it is beautiful, nonetheless. You vividly captured something most people tip-toe around (myself included) and I’m completely impressed. 🙂


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