by Maureen Sherbondy

Place your hand in the fire
imagine it is a river
that can only burn the skin
of one who fears and sees flame.

Jump out of the plane.
No parachute. Fall
and grab what you need
on the way down.

You are a single petal
cast free from the flower;
you will land on another
stem and thrive.

You are the feather
of a bird, one feather
that can fly because
it remembers flight.

Leave the house
you built years before,
the ground descends
beneath bare feet.

There is a river
and long ago
you taught yourself
how to swim.