Holding fast to the string of a kite
Keeps it safely tethered -
Anchored to the here and now.
Let out a little of the line and
Watch as the wind buffets it
This way and that;
Feel the insistent upward tug
In your tightened grip.
Afraid to lose control,
You pull the strings to make it dance
In dizzy circles round your head -
Swooping and swallowing
The sky.
It is fear that has your fingers
Stiff and swollen with the effort
Of holding on until at last you
Let it fly.
Release is sweet - watching as it
Gains momentum of its own
Tumbling away - loose and lost
To fate.
While you, at last, have use
Of both your hands.
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