Seven Minutes of Terror
Certain journeys we can only make
alone, reaching into the void and hoping
we land safely. There is no frequency
to these efforts, no wavelength we
can depend on. Consider the parents
who sit white-knuckle, waiting
to see if their struggle has been
in vain. Consider the child
launched at last, finally risked
and risking. All our preparation
was calculated. There is always a breath
before the collision when we realize
all at once the interplay of friction
and uncertainty. Once gone
they are out of our hands, and we
will learn from their solitary voice
signaling back to us, saying I will
teach you this, too. I will show you
what it means to dream again.
Gretchen Rockwell (xe/xer) is a queer poet currently living in Pennsylvania. Xe is the author of the microchapbooks love songs for godzilla (Kissing Dynamite, 2020) and Thanatology (Ghost City Press, 2020); xer work has appeared in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Poet Lore, FOLIO, FreezeRay Poetry, and elsewhere. Find xer at www.gretchenrockwell.com or on Twitter at @daft_rockwell.