(bood’-e; Sanskrit; noun):
intuitive, direct knowledge
I know my wings when they show up
I feel their heft on my scapula,
on the wingspan between shoulder blades
I feel their stretch and the shadow
they draw across the ground. The
back of my heart, fourth chakra,
grows big blind wings. They appear.
They embody. I remember them
into being and adjust my posture
to their weight.
Icarus made wings to lift a body,
but mine, invisible appendages,
spread out to take me in.
Icarus flew toward the sun and fell.
I fly toward my heart.
Is it any safer?
Is it so less worth the risk?