When she left, my world

became smaller.

In school my P.E lessons

became the same. Some

things I could never do,

like vault a horse. The jump

was too much back then.

My small arms and legs

were not strong enough to

push up the weight of her too.

Walking the balance beam,

what side to fall on if my ears

didn’t level out? To do a roll on

a matt, the shallow blue unknown,

made me think how hard things

were for my parents. Climb

wall-mounted frames. New

heights could be discovered

but I would only have to come

back down. Press my life

onto a springboard, let the earth

take me somewhere. But would I

land someplace new? I never

managed to find the bridge and cross.

I only came to new things that

left hints of new beginnings.

And my parents were quiet

about where I could end up.