Time for Liftoff

Ground beneath
shifting
once solid
now swirling
dissolving –
gritty eddies
of sand…

Would be
a desert storm
if not standing
at water’s edge;
nothing for it
but to leap
take a risk
and fly…


(This poem first appeared here as Flying Fish, in 2016. Now edited and retitled for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: swirling. Image my own.)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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