Learning to Ski in Midlife
My first time on skis everything
looks like Half Dome or Everest.
If you want to fly you need wings, don’t you?
I keep thinking about
how Jung says we are
protagonists in our own lives
and an extra in a larger drama.
I’m terrified; no one cares. I’m an
exclamation point, they are a comma.
The last thing broken in me
was my heart. And it wasn’t a hairline
fracture. It was the Humpty Dumpty
divorce. But whose isn’t? That man
swaying through the snow like a dance,
that woman floating down the mountain
like a kite…someone broke their hearts—
or will. Yet they don’t stand still.
They explode like robust angels
claiming souls. When the lift swoops
me up, my feet dangle into nothingness.
I am ready to wing it, this abyss.
Author: Kate Evans
Editor: Renée Picard
Image: via the author
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