When free fall stops I hurt. That’s what happens
When you land belly first on bare rock.
It’s not easy using my whole body as brakes,
But that’s the price free fall demands.
There’s no flight here, no style, no finely controlled
Flip of a wing; just hard descent,
And a sudden, painful stop.
Do you get the metaphor? Yes, I’m an addict,
But that word is too short, convenient, and familiar
To let you taste the broken dignity; wasted years;
Deadened soul; the life ripped out of me piecemeal.
I had only so much innocence to lose;
I didn’t want to spend it all in one place;
So I parceled my heart out like a miser, a handful at a time.
I joined an army, disguised as a family;
Wore chains borrowed from their death camp savior,
And tried to climb their cliff of selfless virtue.
That climb was not mine; desire called me down.
I slipped their chains, succumbed to the forbidden deep,
And found terrible joy in the plunge.
It was then I formed the taste for free fall.
At first I ran to the edge and threw myself like a diver,
Back arched, arms stretched wide, relishing the rush
In my ears, my wind burnt face, laughing as I dove.
The landings grew hard. Still I staggered to the cliff and simply fell.
Finally I could only crawl to the lip and roll over. Unable to stop,
Feeling the slavery, I cursed myself for years.
Gravity taught me freedom needs restraint.
Now, I find no freedom without chains: mine are what I need;
Borrowed from no one; forged by my own hand; worn willingly.
And although I see my nation and world lost in free fall,
A heady, expensive abandon I know too well,
I urge my bonds on no one; I don’t know what’s right for you.
Nonetheless, this is my life: I am wary of theology, messiahs,
And heights; and I know that no fall is free.
© Larry Haworth 2013
