I have to leave now.
Even as I say these words,
some of them might sound too loud,
some might sound like faint whispers,
and you might wonder what was left unsaid.
Some words might have to lie behind the curtain of this farewell,
I have to soar. Alone.
And while you look at me, remember
I’m watching you too
while you see me shrink
to the size of a lemon, then a coin, and then a speck.
And when I disappear,
you might dispatch the next balloon
snipping its umbilical cord from the earth.
As you watch it rise,
I will see you from an ocean of obscurity.
The Dirty Thirty, Poem 8