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| Photo by John Gay |
even with the wind
against my cheek
that moment of being touched
takes surprising strength:
gravity tossed with motion.
I like to fly, though
the moment before take-off
wonder what calls me
to imagine my own death
(the one where even strangers
are not alone).
So why, when your body
offers flight, are we migrating
birds whose destination
drives us from within,
whose archaic goal of safety
outwits the spontaneous impulse?
...
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