by Jill
(Spokane, WA)

I loved you once, and then, then…

my heart was a hot air balloon.

Tied with nylon rope, I awaited the unfastening and release
when I longed to be lifted high and to counter the gravity of sorrow.

The ignition of a flame lifted me up,

and, with passion burning,
my sandbag tears

and lifted meter by meter until I was captured by the zephyr
on which you carried your whisper to Elijah.

Gales took me around the world and smooth floating landed me on soft, flat grass,

and I kept my passenger teeth smiling.

But after a few failed flights and holes in my parachute,

I now sit with iron chains weighing me down,
fire burning with a vengeance,
tear-sandbags dropping until my basket becomes weightless,
waiting for the zephyr,
tattered and anchored

by reason on one corner,
grief on its diagonal corner,
doubt on a third corner,

and, in perhaps the heaviest corner, heartache.

Please patch these holes and saw off these chains; I long to take flight again.

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