Once I thought
that I could fly,
then
that I could heal.
And today I raised my face to the sun,
and whispered softly: “Help,”
for people truly are unwell.
I began to ask for a sign
that everything will change,
that we will open our hearts,
that we will want less,
and not more and more.
And so I hung suspended
in that very thought.
My students listened kindly,
I tried to convince them
there is no need to fear.
I am in the right place
and at the right time.
My levitation no longer troubles me.
I want to be a support
for myself and for others
in my tiny scale,
since I cannot lift the sky.
On the way back with my daughter
I saw a white feather,
already drifting in the night air.
It began circling around us.
It was no mirage.
My child and I,
in awe of the great
and the microscopic,
watched that strange, flying being.
The child asked: “Is it an angel?”
And I answered: “It’s a sign.”
That white feather came to me
and became a warm web
of only good wishes,
gently falling straight
into my wide-open arms,
melting calmly into my hand.
A miracle happened.
The fear is gone.
What remains is
Love, Tenderness, and Hope.
