Sky Dive

Facing the edge
of the sky, I hesitate
a breath, wind and engine
drowning goodbyes; I look
out through the emptiness that will
cradle my body, focus to look
past fear, one moment
safely encased in air-climbing steel, the next
stepping out, set free
to trust the heaviness
of air.       I tumble 

      out, spiraling
through waves
and waves of cloudless
space, falling
free, arms
and legs out ready to hug
the earth, back
arched, belly
down, one inconsiderable body
open and held in place
by the pull
of earth
and the swelling
of air, high
as Timothy
Leary, euphoric,
giddy, trusting
blindly, daring
gravity, stretching
time, sharply aware
of the mind
of a bird, t
hrust earth-
bound between white tufts
of sky,
crashing
through space without
moving, form
drawn landward
to terminal velocity. Then 
         the cord rips, 
                           hooks

me upright, freeing
wings of red
canopy back toward
heaven -- horizon, cloud, crow --
suspended, timeless,
leisured -- I float,
buoyed on currents, easing toward earth;
a new quiet hushes
the roaring descent. An easeful sinking,
I drop like a feather, slicing
tranquil slivers of air, a gentle sliding
through space. Earth begins
to swell, tiny flecks become people, arms
waving in welcome
home from my flight. Closer and faces
unfold.    And it’s already
time; I pull down
hard on the toggles to brake and bend
my arms to aim for one tiny round
patch of dirt. And as if no more
daring than a leap from the steps
of a lesser ladder, 
                        my feet touch ground, 

            splashing a cloud
of sand up over my boots and I feel like a great
magician making the grandest entrance. Then 
            grounded, my blood
catches up, rushes at
terminal velocity through every vein at
once, hot like a sunrise summered in my belly, and all
I can manage is some dizzied laughing
scream and an unwavering awe-wrapt gaze upward,
past clouds,
to where I began
this celestial feat, eyes 
         searching the sky
as a recognition settles over me, that nothing
now
will ever
again
be fast enough or
slow enough.

first published in Poets Anonymous poets group anthology a full cup.
©2003 DJ Gaskin