disappearances

I've been rather absent as of late. Not absent minded, but absent. The words aren't coming right now - creative or scholarly or both - the well has run dry. But no matter. Four weeks of chicken scratching in the sand, digging like a bird searching for worms in the dusty ground will eventually end. Disappearances or no, I am still here, still waiting, still writing, still moving towards the end with healing wings that flap in turn. It's an exercise that pains me, yet the more I flap the more I realize I can move them without fear of the unpredictable gyre spinning me out of control. My wings ache in a solitary sort of pain, but I still move, knowing the farther I fly the better I feel. The feathers are now returning in downy softness - I am surprised at how much they were missed. But in knowing I can fly - that I am not caged any longer - is so new. Rather than reaching with hesitating defiance, my grasp is now limited to the horizon. To that end I disappear - it is a wish, a dream I hope I can reach.