Faith and the fall

She would often tie me up,
in my hands, my legs, my lips.
For her I was a toy, a ball.
She would throw me up in air,
and catch me as I fall.
It was scary and a lot fun too,
like jumping off a sinking ship.
It didn’t matter at all
if I crashed, catching my breath.

And she always caught me midair.
That’s how I’d found faith from the fall.
That’s how I’d found faith from the falling.

That was a feeling out of the world –
Seeing her eyes, and myself in them.
For her I was the world.
Anything she could do to push me up above all.
It was scary and a lot fun too,
like the lump on a bungee jump.
It didn’t matter at all, because
I knew she wouldn’t let me crash
catching my breath.

And she always caught me midair.
That’s how I’d found faith from the fall.
That’s how I’d found faith from the falling.
And learned to rise,
to fly.

Now,
she is falling ever so badly,
Hoping for me to catch her.
And I’m falling even harder,
Trying but failing to catch up with her.

I’m sorry Mom.
I’m coming home.

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22 thoughts on “Faith and the fall

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  1. This speaks to the ultimate twist – the strong parent that picked me up when I fell down has grown old. Now I am the one picking up my parents when they fall.
    I love the imagery in your poem and how sweetly you worded it. It is sad but true – but so touching that you are there now for your parent(s).

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