A Turning Wheel

12/14/22

My Savta once told me:
Life is a turning wheel.
One day, an eagle, soaring,
the next, a lonely krill.

It was in these words.
I found balance,
no, solace
so tall.

I remember to rise,
every single fall.

When she was five
they tried to take
her life. Forced
to steal, barter, bruise
her way past each
notice of bad news;
repeating, repeating
till she was fifteen.
The wheel finally turned
and she met her love
the next week, across
the ocean.
A soaring eagle,
over the globe.
The wheel turned
steeper down

by the time I came around


at the bottom of the ocean,
a lonely bottom-feeder remains
down-lower the port but
as porter once said:
You’ll float faster to the surface,
faster than you sank.

And with that spark
a bubble popped, a
gear turned, a rig
greased itself to tick
a notch
as I finally felt
the wheel unlock.

Up and up,
may it never stop
until I find my
Savta-
blessed from the quote
she once said:

Life is a turning wheel.
One day, an eagle, soaring.
the next, a lonely krill.
After each moment of mourning,
you remember you’re still here.
So grip your hands a-steady
and, take command.
Take control of your
turning wheel.