What Else

Based off Alicia Ostriker's poem "What Else"

Here is what else the soul does. It rides free

like a six-year-old learning how to ride a two-wheeler.

She won't think about the danger, despite

the purple racing helmet buckled on her head.

She won't worry about cars or broken 

bones or skinned knees. That's what her parents do.

She will urge the hands guiding her to let go before

they want to. They'll never want to.

And she will laugh and giggle while her mom

clasps her hands, trails nervously behind her

as her father gets everything on camera;

I am pleasantly reminded that this isn't a solipsistic universe.

Right here, right now the only thing that matters

is the tangled brown hair flying behind her,

the speed with which she is attaching the world

for I have learned the art of slow and can no longer

describe the colors of life passing by. She has, for now,

forgotten everything and is focused only on the art of balancing.