When

when we fly, we fly
higher than birds of prey
lower than birds of steel
fears become like dimples at one's feet
interesting and sweet
and pain, well more real
but with more strength to bear
like shrubs growing up to the sky
thickets where birds can nest
in safety
when we crash -- no one talks about that
the depths needed, when people look away
"'xcuse me, got a minute?"
walls of cold air rise,
glass, that when hit, bruises
I do dream of your gardens
where without reproach or despair
everyone can be looked in the eye
and in it, find again ourselves