22 Dec Poets’ Corner: Feela for Xmas
Buried in the back of our closets alongside the battered tinsel star, the good silver, and great grandma’s dishes lie reminders of the holidays – for better or for worse. Those memories of Xmases past are as persistent as Santa myths– and as unavoidable as carols, “It’s A Wonderful Life” and telemarketers. One of our favorite writer-poets and regular contributor to Telluride Inside… and Out, David Feela, pulled this one out of a box. His words are a perfect gift for the season given the gift of snow Telluride is receiving from El Nino.
Coming Down
Climbing to the top
of the hill befalls the
difficult part: the boots,
already clumsy,
sink into the snow
and each step forward
must double as a step toward facing your racing heart
a quickness inside you, an inclination that demands you sit down.
Here’s the sensible part of your maturing spirit, the one that brews a pot of tea
and steeps the afternoon until the light turns muddy, not the one revisiting this
childish slope where you only remember the rush
of sliding down. This going up never felt part of the ritual:
You were born on top, leaning over the edge, hardly
taking time to situate yourself on the slick
sheet of cardboard before giving in
to the sensation of falling,
of feeling the world
crush past you in a blur.
At the bottom, your face frozen
in an expression of pure ecstasy and terror,
you stared straight into the sky’s unblinking eye,
laid out flat on the snow, arms and legs spread wide
as if trying to steady yourself while the earth still whirled,
the whole of your little life committed,
holy
to the memory of coming down.
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