Learning to fly

.
In her dreams heard that voice

"Come to the edge," He said.
She said, "I’m afraid."
"Come to the edge," He said.
She came.
He pushed her ... and she flew." *

Sometimes we just need that little push. Being a few steps before the edge, we wish that someone could be with us to help us do that step to the unknown. Maybe we already know that we can fly but this hand we feel in our back, the trust that penetrates our soul, like an electric current runs in our body , reaches at every spot our fears and hopes are hiding , trims our fears and awakens our hope.

The Hand knows that although we insist on be grounded we are determine to try … to fly. And we know that the Hand knows. It sees the wings ,those the shadow of the doubt forbid us to see. . That’s why we climbed together, up there, to the mountain’s edge. We lying that we want to go back, and the Hand knows that. It sees in our eyes the trail on the clouds we have imagined. And push us.


The hand pushed her, from the safe ground to the void. The soul wrapped with tension at the point of no turning back. Too late to grab that rock and climb back to the safe. The irresistible sky, that’s what she wants to seize

"Come to the edge," He said.
She came.

The Hand pushed her…. She wanted to fly, so she let the hand push her.



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* The “dream” is based on a poem of Guillaume Apollinaire