How like we are--
afloat in lights and applause--
to tethered balloons
of delicate skin stretched taut
about empty space.
Tied to the illusion
of nights and days
by threads of grace,
we bob and waft
on an air
of roars and whimpers.
We trust our state
to be constant
as the clock's hands,
given like the moon and stars.
We take for granted tomorrow
as if time were stone,
only to rock in bewilderment
at the sudden gentleness
of severance--
at the sailing upward then,
above it all,
into gospels of freedom,
up and higher still to drift,
beyond the cool, soft grays
of eternity,
drawn, without provision,
to a boundless embrace
where tomorrow and yesterday
are one.
Winner of the Basehor Library 2002 Poetry Competition.
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Comments: 3
"The sudden gentleness of severance" casting us into eternity makes death seem like slipping "the bonds of earth and danc(ing) the skies on laughter-silvered wings" -- an image much to be desired and one, I suspect, very close to the truth.
This is a lovely poem, Mark. From now on when i see balloons, I'll smile with very special thoughts.
This is my first time reading your work, and I am impressed. Tethered Balloons is a lovely, lovely poem,
such hope.