Somehow, Still Here

I have lived too long between the stars,
half-weightless, half-wanting to land.
The pull of the world is a quiet thing.
A hum beneath my feet, a hand I
almost take, then let go again.

Some days I burn bright, breaking free,
sailing past reason into blue;
some days I ache for the simple gravity
of tea, of laughter, of someone I once knew.

And yet, I think the sky forgives
the wanderers who drift and spin.
It holds us close in its quiet grace,
whispering: falling is how we begin.

So here I am, circling softly,
tethered by light, unbound by fear,
not quite home, but close enough,
and somehow, somehow, still here.

• Jay Rose Ana