Beautiful Messy Life

MORTAL FLIGHT

Warm air carries the buzzards high,
Rise. Rise up and above words and worlds,
That call me stupid,
To think myself worthy of enlightenment.
Unable to unlock or free my mind?

Still, I sit there as the sun saunters across the early morning
Arrow-head Swifts screech, piercing the sky
The breeze fingers the grass as always
The uncurling fern loosens its grip on time
Revealing a life ending, not beginning as once thought.
A singular fine summer in which to sow and fruit
And sow…

I have known breath in my body and thoughts of my own.
I have danced with the falling leaves and tasted the salt in the ocean.
I have heard the songs women wail when heaving forth a life
I know the exact sound a newborn makes when fractious to be fed.
Not least, the eternally imprinted memory of holding hands in mine,
Of those who cease to exist.

I know the sound of my child’s heart beating inside their chest
Time taken to lay my head upon to listen.
I’ve witnessed the echoes of trickling laughter continue
To bounce off walls in rooms no longer filled.
Gasped at the joyful spray as they cascade back through my door
full grown,
While happiness spills down my cheeks.
I have cried. Like the heavy, great-big-fat rain of a thunder storm.
Lain spent and judged and sorrowful.

I have touched the lonely and felt it’s pity
Known the meaning of home
And hope…
I know what love should feel like
How fleeting life is.

I was fortunate enough, in yestermorrow,
To sit a while and inhale the view
Tasting the shades of green
As the clouds composed a musical masterpiece above my head.
I could feel the rocks watching me, the trees waiting as I marvelled at
Just how insignificant I am.
Now that is “Freeing!”
In fifty years the Earth will still spin another’s chapter
Around the sun
The grass will still sway
The birds will still sing
Water will still glisten
Sailors will still set off in search of adventure.

Ants will still toil
Kettles will still boil
Camp fire smoke will still care not where you sit!

And I’ll be long gone.
Thoughts, words, ego, memories.
Your opinion of me.

The rocks will still be watching,
Trees still waiting

For my time to come again.

© 2026 Juliette Proffitt

All Rights Reserved

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