Grasping at Straws

Stubborn independence
strength, indeed!
When gravity was more closely centered
you grasped at all the straws
never settling for just one.
The distance to fall is greater, now
and you settle back, and in.
Occasionally a grin tickles
your eyes and mouth while
choosing a straw as best fits the moment,
as best fits you.The infant you were lingers in my mind
a shimmery wave of blurred
rushing time–
and I wonder
about the odd, discordant dance
that we both seem to enjoy . . . and yet, maybe not.
Those jazzy blues can take oddly haunting turns
even as life changes and renews
between us
while the apron strings tumble
to leave dancers adrift,
not like a marionette whose strings were suddenly untied
nor yet a ballerina with form and discipline dry and dead.
Free form; free fall; loosened; unleashed.
A pause; a wonderment; a silent grief;
a deep breath; a slow smile; a forward step.
A letting go; certain sure in that moment — blessed.

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