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Night Flight

by Carol Adams

Beneath the dark backdrop of sky,
a night wind sweeps
from door to door
seeming to whisper
its own urgency,
as she flees
to her open car,
from memory strewn walls
confining the man
and his self-loathing,
terror whistling at her heels,
the child clutched
in the carriage
of her arms

Sliding into the horizon
smooth as a sigh,
a deliverance from dread,
transcending limits to sadness,
she sees shadows of wings
outlined against tomorrow's sun.

The child, very still,
has almost discovered
what it is to be invisible
eyes, so like his fathers
looking towards a separate life,
where he may glide
inches off the ground

Carol A. Adams grew up in South-East England. She studied for a year at l'Alliance Francaise in Paris and later emigrated to Canada. She worked at the Scarborough Public Library Board for a number of years. A recent mature graduate of York University, Carol majored in English and Creative Writing and now lives in North Toronto with her husband, a native Nova Scotian, and their two sons.

 

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The Danforth Review is produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. All content is copyright of the person who created it and cannot be copied, printed, or downloaded without the consent of that person. See the masthead on the submissions page for editorial information. All views expressed are those of the writer only. International submissions are encouraged. The Danforth Review is archived in the Library and Archives Canada. ISSN 1494-6114. 

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