Inertia
My dearest friend,
she is anxious about going outside.
“The blinds have been low for so long
that chunks of light
come through the chinks
and just collect dust,”
she whispers,
like an animal in exile.
“Come, step under the sun,
into the blue sky
I guarantee you’ll cry,
when you see
how the mountain between inertia and motion,
cremates
into the same dust
that collects on your shutters,”
I mutter.
“After my eyes adjusted to the night,
my limbs forgot to move” she sighs,
taking the form
of an overwintered bird,
rustling powder from her fat feathers.
“Ah, but look
light is nil
without darkness,”
say I, shrill
with the certainty of an eagle
who has moved through tunnelled skies,
with just one pair of eyes
always.
“I knew light
when my body had sprite,
but how far sensation seems now” she bows,
shrinking into the body of a worm,
arrested
by the margins
between weight and
weightlessness.
“Suit yourself,
and be suited then
by your fear of change,”
I announce,
dismissing- renouncing,
the spaces of submission- necessary admissions-
between thought and movement.
Resigned,
my friend smiles.
“My fears are great- but wait-
I must ask about your eyes before you go outside.
See,
my time in the light
was so bright
that my eyes got burnt
and I lost my sight!
Pray tell,
what do you see
when you look at me?”
says she.
Without a thought,
I respond.
“I see you
in all your states of inertia,
like a bird without a wing
like a worm without a wiggle,”
itching my feet against the sticky floor,
reaching for the door.
“Wonderful!
I did not think
that my changes in state
would be reflected in such inertia,”
she brims,
with outstretched limbs.
As daylight ebbs, I turn her way
“good bye,” I say
but before I’m gone, I hear a song
and you scant believe what I see
I am left with no friend by me!
My dearest friend has taken flight into the night;
with starlit wings, she’s burning bright
and I am left beside myself
a friend in awe,
a muddled fright
arrested by
inertia.
