to collect the parting debris of me
among the floating pieces
of broken sureness.
I learned it from Icarus,
the importance of knowing
how close from the sun
is too close
how one can survive the fall
by breathing slowly
and avoiding questions
on the nature of living,
on the nature of dying.
the importance of knowing
how close from the sun
is too close
how one can survive the fall
by breathing slowly
and avoiding questions
on the nature of living,
on the nature of dying.
It is a good philosophical question!Great piece!
ReplyDeleteYes, yes. Learn it better than Icarus, why don't we?
ReplyDeletegood one
ReplyDeleteI. Love. This! I think this is my first time reading your work, but I'll be back.
ReplyDelete(love your profile description by the way)
The full sun - burning as it does.
ReplyDeleteWill never be too close.
Love the opening stanza, great write.
ReplyDeleteFirst stanza - surprize! Philosophical question....
ReplyDeleteWhat a lesson. Being so sure and then falling down. At the same time, prepared for the fall and being picked up. Sad that it ends in possible avoidance, some things we just are not ready to know!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing! :) I enjoyed.
So brilliantly done, Kenia. You have taken a familiar analogy and made it all your own. So unique to take from the viewpoint of one who survives the fall, albeit a little bent, a little broken.
ReplyDeleteA floating feather of allegory, light and no matter how far it falls, landing intact.Lovely, Kenia.
ReplyDeleteI do like the tender wisdom in this - very nicely achieved Kenia... With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com
ReplyDeleteso well crafted ~
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful piece.I love the opening
ReplyDeleteI can't improve on Hedgewitch's comment, so I won't try. This just kept turning in the air.
ReplyDeleteFabulous opening lines. Terrific
ReplyDeletehow close from the sun
ReplyDeleteis too close
One often takes risks in life and are not really cautioned of the impending consequences These are simple mistakes that can be avoided. Nicely Kenia!
Hank
We each, at various times in our lives, become mere flotsam and jetsam. And then the tides change and we manage to reassemble ourselves... or not.
ReplyDeleteThis is a gem of a poem--tightly constructed, with no waste or unnecessary side-trips, and wonderfully visual. Fine, fine work.
ReplyDeleteThe tenuous condition of 'the nature of living' is captured with great delicacy and strength here.
ReplyDelete