Wednesday, March 12, 2014


I have a flyaway soul. 
There is an anthology of song, barely hidden
Underneath the eyelids of the winds
that blow through me. 
An anthology you may never see. 

My flyaway heart
Is a page folded in half. 
The woman in me is strong.  
With a firm grip she will:
Lead you into her ocean of thought. 
She never seems to hesitate;
But she never rushes in. And
Every time you win, 
You wonder what made her concede.

My flyaway heart
Is a page folded in half. 
You may only ever meet the little girl in me
On days I won’t be convinced of my beauty. 
Shy, vulnerable, naively trusting:
Mischievous enough to have my way by agreeably smiling
and letting you think you’re wielding something that could be mine
In a skipped heartbeat, 
Or a twinkling eye. 

I have a flyaway soul.
You could be a friend who knows
My fierce loyalty and unabashed honesty. And once you
Give me your worst to tame,
You’ll be a grateful friend who knows I do not disapprove. 
Perhaps you’re a friend who’s learned over time
The familiar drink with me is about 
All the ludicrous stories that are stubbornly true-
you’ll laugh till you cry, I’ve been a purple elephant for you. 
And maybe you know, I can tell you everything inside me in a 
bear hug or handclasp, only uttering quiet silence.

My flyaway heart 
Might once have been yours. If you know that 
I love my own skin enough to know exactly how to- 
never forgetting to blink- get deep under yours. 
Or you could be a lover in who I am incapacitated 
A soldier’s first sweetheart; tethered to an almost broken promise.
Too lost in the moment to see it’s brevity. 
And it certainly was once yours, and in part ever will be, 
if you’re someone perfectly beautiful and I broke you coldly.
Or are ever still a woman or man who’ll always wonder  
what you might have seen if  you’d caught onto my tail
as I flew into the night, instead of letting me slip away. 

No one ever captures flyaway soul standing still, 
It only stays perched long enough for one:
single-faceted, uni-angular, ankle-deep picture. Just one
Frozen moment in time. 
You can know a flyaway heart if you dance with it,
step matched to step.  
And surprise yourself to know that you knew all along:
I can choose to be a wildcard, 
I can choose to be a ticket home, or
I can choose not to choose at all. For 

I have a flyaway soul. 

No comments:

Post a Comment