question

drawn to the ground and an end to flight? i suppose. i have flown, tossed by breezes that were not mine, unfamiliar sky, bold and beautiful and blue, rippled clouds and volcano-poured sunrises, windy clearness buffeting and gray mists hanging low and pregnant with possibility. i have thrilled in unpredictable loops, stopped my heart with close passes to the ground at speeds that seemed irrecoverable, danced the tops of trees and flown still and serene against a neverending baby blue. the province of dreamers was my home.

my string plucked from my tail, solid, predictable, unmoving and safe, the ground has beckoned and i have slammed into it headlong and pointed, my nose buried in turf and leaves and things unfamiliar, things i have seen only from above and which have me feeling lost and wondering what this is wrapped around my tip. trees which were my footbeds are now my companions, soil and roots now where my feet rest and wander. my legs are unsteady, my eyes unaccustomed to obstacle are clouded with forests and fields and mountains and buildings. my vantage, once grand and unspoiled has contracted into a small frame to fit with the rest of the grounded.

am i of the grounded? can i be one of these who surround me, feet happily twined in grasses and hands that play in those leaves, toes that feel their way around roots and do not stub and stumble upon them? i fear my hair becoming tangled in those naked branches, breaking my now tender feet upon rocks i have not felt before, tearing my skin against trunks around which i am unused to making my way, having always merely lightly touched their tops and pivoted over.

i feel too heavy. i feel my relentless weight bound to the earth. lightness is my being, my way, my dance. i am not a dancer here. i am not a dreamer here. this is not the province of dreamers, this does not yet feel like my home. i am still of the sky, and i will continue to look longingly to it, wondering how i became so heavy.