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walking
Poetry

Blind Walking

It feels as if I am walking, walking blindly into unknown territory; as if a cloth is over my eyes, and a gentle wind at my back forcing me to move forward. But I’m stuck. Is it fear? I think so. I feel as if I am being gently pushed off a cliff, a cliff I have walked patiently on for many moons – years maybe – pacing back and forth from the edge, afraid to get too close, afraid to peer over to see a hint of what could be there. But now there is a gentle wind behind me, forcing me to make tiny, awkward, clumsy steps forward.

I have one foot on the edge of the cliff, steady and securely on the rocky ground, and one foot over the edge. I feel gravity pulling my foot out further, so that my leg becomes outstretched. My foot begins to lower, slowly giving into the gravity pull, slowly I begin to teeter forward. There’s still resistance, but the wind is patient, gentle and persistent. In its silence I hear encouragement, and maybe a touch of tough love. It will not let me step back, but only forward.

The wind stills, but there is no room for my free foot to return to solid ground. It is gravity’s turn to pull me down into the unknown.

In the stillness I feel myself falling forward, my free foot becoming too tired to stay in the air, my outstretched leg feels like led. The teetering act begins to falter. I’m dipping now, down… lower.

My heel is off the ground, but my toes resist leaving the edge. My arms are outstretched like a pair of wings, desperately trying to keep me balanced in some type of Forward Yoga Warrior stance. My toes dig deeper into the edge, straining to stay on solid ground.

Gravity doesn’t cease. A gentle breeze is softly felt, but no forceful push, only a reminder it is still there. An encouraging breeze is all it was, enough for my toes to relax.

Pinky toe has left the ground, and like a domino affect, the other three, one at a time, follow. I am now balancing only on my big toe, the ball of my foot is the most stubborn. I am wobbling from left and to right, my wing like arms desperately trying to keep me balanced. The air is still in anticipation, persistence and patience. It is as if all is waiting, waiting for me to give in – to fall into new territory.

The ball of my foot rolls forward and stops, my big toe barely hanging on, and my outstretched leg is very low now, being pulled harder down by the force of gravity, a force that never ceases.

Let go, let go the whisper of gravity states. I hear the silent whisper as if it was a shout in the ear.

My leg gives into gravity. Teetering act now ceases.

My knee bends, the one that which belongs to the leg barely hanging to the edge.

My toe leaves the edge. I am now free falling with my arms outstretched, and legs stretched in opposite directions, sort of like a leap in the air. A leap of faith could be the interpretation.

I am now free, falling, flying into a place unknown to me, unfamiliar, dark… or is it? I do not know. I can not see it clearly. I will not know until I feel solid ground once again.

Until then, I’ll enjoy the fall, the ride to unknown territory.

 

 

Author: val.180
Email: v.turpin@hotmail.com
Author Bio: The voice of the spirit is as loud as the whisper in the wind, breath upon the skin, and as delicate as a feather in the wind. The quiet voice speaks the truth within you. Let it speak through you, and let it be what it will be. There is no rhythm, rhyme, or reason. the voice of the spirit is felt rather than heard, and when it is heard it is through your own words or way of expression.

Speak those quiet words, in any form you wish; through art, verbally, in any way. Let it be and you will see what you are capable of.
Link to social media or website: Instagram @val.180

 

Comment
by val.180

~When a quiet individual speaks, their voice is loud ~

The voice of the spirit is as loud as the whisper in the wind, breath upon the skin, and as delicate as a feather in the wind. The quiet voice speaks the truth within you. Let it speak through you, and let it be what it will be. There is no rhythm, rhyme, or reason. the voice of the spirit is felt rather than heard, and when it is heard it is through your own words or way of expression.
Speak those quiet words, in any form you wish; through art, verbally, in any way. Let it be and you will see what you are capable of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My articles contain information I have received on my spiritual path, which I call, my path of life, sprinkled in with creative expressions.

Random teed-bits of information about ME: I am from Southwestern Arizona; I was born in 1990 and I am the second to the youngest of 5 children; I have a Bachelor degree in Social Work and I am currently pursing a Master’s in Social Work.

My interests: Poetry; creating art in multiple forms; history of civilization, diversity of cultures, history of art in multiple forms through the ages, world religions, and world power; Psychology and Sociology; Mysticism; Law & Order; writing (academically and creatively).

Enjoy! and Happy reading. <3

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