Dreams of Falling
I tumble from the sky
desperately grasping the edges of cumulus clouds,
like grasping the edges of my dreams
as I tumble through them,
falling through the contrails, through the cirrostrati,
through the tall storm clouds I’ve seen in books
or in paintings of angels with golden halos
peacefully floating next to god
but I am not floating like an angel
I am plummeting at breakneck speed
spinning out of control, rain in my hair
dripping down and soaking my face
with no angels cheering me on
as I tumble through my life
and all the while,
this happy sun is smiling on a perfect world
which is stupidly smirking at my rapid descent as if
I should have expected this, as if I should be happy
living in clouds like a kid having dreams of falling…
but it is not this way when you are not a kid
there are no cotton balls to break your fall
no smiling faces inside airliners waving you on
no cartoon birds keeping pace with you
with beautiful swallow-tailed feathers
forming perfect points of flight
with no concept of crashing
to the ground in terror
as if things didn’t suddenly stop for no reason
as if our dreams were the only things we really needed
as if life didn’t turn to papers that we had to sign
or bills we had to pay, or promises we had to keep
as if there were pillows on the ground
to catch us when the alarm clock went off
when it was time to get up for school and have breakfast
and the buses didn’t show up because it was a snow day
and we could all play outside and make snowmen
while all the teachers sat at home at their desks
giving us all A’s on our english papers,
writing pretty things in the margins
that said we would never fall because
every single one of us
could fly.
I tumble from the sky
desperately grasping the edges of cumulus clouds,
like grasping the edges of my dreams
as I tumble through them,
falling through the contrails, through the cirrostrati,
through the tall storm clouds I’ve seen in books
or in paintings of angels with golden halos
peacefully floating next to god
but I am not floating like an angel
I am plummeting at breakneck speed
spinning out of control, rain in my hair
dripping down and soaking my face
with no angels cheering me on
as I tumble through my life
and all the while,
this happy sun is smiling on a perfect world
which is stupidly smirking at my rapid descent as if
I should have expected this, as if I should be happy
living in clouds like a kid having dreams of falling…
but it is not this way when you are not a kid
there are no cotton balls to break your fall
no smiling faces inside airliners waving you on
no cartoon birds keeping pace with you
with beautiful swallow-tailed feathers
forming perfect points of flight
with no concept of crashing
to the ground in terror
as if things didn’t suddenly stop for no reason
as if our dreams were the only things we really needed
as if life didn’t turn to papers that we had to sign
or bills we had to pay, or promises we had to keep
as if there were pillows on the ground
to catch us when the alarm clock went off
when it was time to get up for school and have breakfast
and the buses didn’t show up because it was a snow day
and we could all play outside and make snowmen
while all the teachers sat at home at their desks
giving us all A’s on our english papers,
writing pretty things in the margins
that said we would never fall because
every single one of us
could fly.