Soaring

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He said I should take a leap of faith.
On him, on us, on what could happen.
And I stood at the edge, my toes just grazing the air and wanted to step forward trusting that my wings would grow simply by wishing them to be.
But I couldn’t leap.
And the more I felt I couldn’t the more paralysed I became.
I hoped for wings, I received stones for feet instead.
So I said it aloud. I said I was scared.
And in return you wrapped your arms around me and let me use your wings instead.

Do you remember what it felt like the mornings you woke up and school was cancelled because of snow?
Do you remember the hush that fell over the highways?
The sparkle of the sun on an icicle on the back porch awning.
The way the day stretched long like taffy.
Sophie’s black paws and brown eyebrows and pink tongue against the stark whiteness.
The siblings snow suits-orange, red, yellow, pink, blue.
Like tiny birds, their wings fluttering against the bluest sky.
No clouds left. Just colour and absence of colour.
Those memories get brighter in the moments when they seem possible again.
Toes off the ledge.
Pjs inside out the night before.
A wish.
A prayer.
A Hope.
A kindness.
Each word a feather in a wing.
A hop then a flutter.
A leap.

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