How to fly

The steering of myself is subtle

and tricky, since these dials —

the ones that I was taught controlled 

my legs, my hands —

Turn out to have been only painted on

And the real controls

The ones that have the switch that lets me fly

Meticulously hidden for so long

I must remind myself each time

To leave the painted-on controls alone

To seek the hidden balance deep inside

And reconnect with what I’ve always known

To lean into the buoyant, flowing currents

Established when the world and I were formed

To catch the waves that carry me

along the perfect lines

where every move of grace has gone before.

©Wendy Mulhern

September 3, 2012