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SUSPENDED

 

In the morning,

Take two poles, moderately far apart,

And stretch yourself taunt between them.

Then attach the end to a large kite

And wait for it to rise up

Making desperate overtures to touch

The sky.

 

If you feel suspended,

Strung out like a doped spider,

Remember the strength of your webbing

And the supportive weighty reality

That drags a wake of ruts

Behind you.

 

And if you feel lost,

Touch an unwatered seed held

Between birth and life yet not dead.

It rests, not flapping in the wind,

Nor struggling as a hooked fish

About to die.

 

 

                                                                                   ~~~ by Michael Chaussee

 

 

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