Kites

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Kites

Will viewpoint shift with my spine’s slow
compression, or will this

window admit only true images
in the shortened days to come?

I pencil phrases on bone-shaped kites
and release them to the afternoon.

Call them prayers, name them moans.
Each string is a regret freed, a separate

skeleton, let go. My two selves shudder
in the attempt. I await the perfect breeze.

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33 thoughts on “Kites”

  5. Intriguing read-between-the-lines poem! I actually googled “bone-shaped kite” but came up empty. Kites of any shape carrying message to set free appeal. I’ve envisioning tiny kites the size of an index card … a bunch of them … with colorful tails of ribbon … floating upward unrestrained …. Thank you for a lovely possibility.

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  8. I love this poem, and it’s not only because you mention bones and a skeleton, but the “two selves” really spoke volumes to me. When I was a little bonehead, I loved flying my kite and in my mind, I was soaring up in the skies, as well. Thank you for helping me recall those memories which I hadn’t thought of in years.

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  9. i suppose for absolute release you have to cut the string. i have taken part in a Dangun ritual at Harvest moon, a holiday in the Korean calendar called Chuseok, with a mountain monk, a few times. After a series of haunting chants or hymns the congregation takes pieces of tissue paper & burns them in there hands, imbibing all there concerns & wishes that they may curl in the smoke to Dangun Grandpa & Cheon, or Heaven (but not in the Western sense, by any means). Perhaps this might be up your street Robert, a way to purge any of the consciousnesses sump that isn’t wanted. Afterwards one feels impeccable.

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    • This might be up my street and directly into my living room. I do believe in purging – mostly not in a physical manner, but in a psychic way. The transformation of solid to ash, and then to dispersed matter, resonates with me in so many ways.

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  10. In Guyana (s. America) kite flying and releasing was done on Easter Monday. By the whole community, religious or not, all along the coast line. The intensity, depths, height, emotion, images and metaphors are boundless, I become overwhelmed, in a positive way, that awaits language as yet

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  12. Pingback: Kites — O at the Edges – D-yuva

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