The situation grows worse though
nothing has changed; she turns
to face the windswept space below
confident it will hold her. In
pointe slippers she tiptoes nearer
the edge and simply falls forward.
The ground recedes, gets smaller
with each new inch of elevation.
She turns midair and allows herself
a moment to revel in ascension. She
has never before dreamed but now seems
the right time.

© Chagall 2016

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