A Master could teach my son to fly
over the cornfields of any countryside
a person might wish or dream to see. This Master
would dress like a carnival barker. My son,
who long ago stopped
minding my rules, would kick off his tennis shoes
and take flight. People would see the magic
my son has shown me in every-day ways all along.
What’s more, he will feel his own power. The whole
universe is connected and energy is not destroyed and love courses
through all of us in a force. Sometimes the only freedom I have
is forming words with my bare hands. The words I rub
together with sticks to create magic fire
and the fire is a release of energy that shows
a benevolence that proves I am not alone
in the world.
Heather Sager lives in Illinois. Her poetry has most recently appeared in Sandpiper, The Wild Word, Remington Review, Cacti Fur, Third Wednesday, CircleShow, Ariel Chart, and Northwest Indiana Literary Journal. Heather also writes short fiction.