-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

almost home
flight 304 to Arizona


I missed the call
several months ago
I'm wondering
if it could've made a difference
the tiny window on my right
holds another kind of amazement
heaven is glowing again
across the sky
pillows of white on white beam
and I remember your voice again
heavy
trying to understand
what couldn't be understood
in a single phone call

we drift across the clouds
and a dozen drop zones appear
there's no other way to embrace
f r e e d o m

sometimes you've just got to let go
I randomly pick a drop zone and imagine
getting ready to dive
maybe Emily dived too in her own way
I wonder about her
content
in her bedroom library upstairs
writing about the funeral in her brain
and the loaded gun that made language
the loaded weapon
free to dive plunge circle float begin and
end anywhere the world would or would
not allow
Emily still rocks Amherst

the drop zones disappear
between the mountains
this time the tiny windows
hide my fears
dear God I'm melting again
the divide in the mountain
looks like an open wound
deep discusted and bruised
they beg to be hidden
beneath the snow caps
of another season
an oversized band aid
to cover the sutured terrain
freezing what can be frozen

a lot like that mountain
I am sturdy and strong
but cut wide open
in places that few can see

the sky has changed again
through the muddled sheath
of clouds, thick and blurry shadows
fade into the distance
I've lost sight until the desert approaches
"80 miles east of Phoenix"
the warm glow on the orange mountains shine
and I'm almost home

written by Crystal K.