fly

when the words 
evade
or i lose myself
in the detailed tangles
of the other's
webs

i often wonder
if it's enough
to witness

if it can satisfy
to say,

“I am here.”

I ask them to feel it all
and often
do not have the
the strings to
weave a foundation
that takes away
the pain

(I want to catch them)

Is this the illusion?

As I listen, speechless,
it may look
like they're falling

Do you see it now?

It's clear, now
when doubt
transfigures
to an almost
ancient knowing

It isn’t a net
that’s needed

but wings

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