The theme this month for my poetry café is ‘Freedom’. Lots of possibilities in here, politics and the free world spring to the front, though they can be a bit cliché if care is not taken. With that in mind I’m wandering back to my youth when I had the chance to take a parachute jump. Seven in fact over three weeks in Southern England. Only seven because the weather was not so hot for falling from the sky. I’ve never done it since, but the experience is amazing. If you get the chance, try it just the once, for the thrill of it.
Anyway, with six of us sat in the plane about to make the first leap, here is my take on it. From about a twenty year blurring of memory. And not even a single photo survives of this time either.
Freedom. (first draft)
There’s a point when you slide into the doorway of the plane,
look into the eyes of the jumpmaster, and the noise
of the wind, the feel of the metal edge of the door
and the smell of the burnt exhaust all fade away and you are falling,
tumbling, pulled towards the ground, focusing and turning
until the snap and drag stalls the dropping, seeming to lift you,
to place you on a blanket that slows the sound around you.
When thought finally catches up with the action, and reality sorts
the wide green quilted pattern between your feet into a real map
of a destination that is approaching with sudden inevitability,
and the smells of earthbound life are once more surrounding your senses.
Since I’ve no parachuting pictures I have gone with mountains here, plenty to go on there, this will be my starting point for another Freedom poem. And this picture may be my next jumping off point, Mt Teide in Tenerife.
Feel free to give opinions and comments, all will be read and considered, and ignored if deemed necessary to my vanity. 🙂
Enjoy the Journey.