Chasms

Last month as I rode in the shuttle on my way to the airport, I glanced out my window and saw what I can only describe as a chasm in the clouds.  Just as the road began to curve away from the sky chasm, I snapped the photo below. Then at the airport, I wrote the first draft of a poem.  

Some background:

When I was an adolescent, I used to walk around the house holding a big square mirror in front of me, mirror side up.  Frameless, this mirror was the perfect tool for me to practice walking on the ceiling. When I looked down into the mirror, I saw ceiling as my floor, so as I moved around the house, I needed to avoid stepping on lights that were now growing out of the white painted drywall beneath me. I also had to step over high thresholds in order to go through doorways, and I enjoyed noting how low the windows hung. 

So, with lots of upside down walking under my belt, it wasn't a big stretch for me to fantasize about walking on clouds and falling through the chasms between them.  I invite you to turn your view upside down and explore chasms with me now.

Chasms

in earth

and sky.

between people, too,

              though the cold, human chasms

              aren’t quite as obvious…

or maybe they are.

if i miss-stepped

while walking

upside down

on puffy white

trails and shores,

would I fall

through the chasm

between clouds

into sky,

forever and ever?

there really is no such thing

as a bottomless pit

of dirt or depression

   but I am told

   that the sky, stretching

   into outer space

      and beyond

         might just be

bottomless,

     edgeless,

         endless

             wonder

i can’t remember

ever really knowing

no end -

              roads,

                           lazy afternoons,

toddlerhood

and

              time spent with you

                           all end, especially when

i’m not ready.

infinity, eternity...

surely they’re more

or maybe less

than just

continuous repeats

of what we know now,

not planets and suns and daily life

stretching out over and over

in ceaseless choruses

of human imagination.

i would call that hell.

this chasmic exploration

is quite an

undoing -

there’s nothing

to hold onto,

the parachute fails,

and

     i

       fall

            into

                azure

                     abyss

it’s quite peaceful here.  really.

Carol Barrow

January, 2016