"tiny white feather free" a poem by Jess Coffman

I began writing this poem in Central Park the other day over by Central Park West and 86th street. I was feeling very unaccomplished, and comparing my lack of personal "success" to the "success" of peers in my business. If I was not overwhelmed and overtaken by this feeling, I would have been able to remind myself that "we all have a different path going down the river." This was an epiphany I came to last summer, while actually tubing down a river in Zion National Park. I was with many friends that day, including my friend Haley who I always think of when I remind myself of this nature inspired mantra.

The basic idea is this, literally everyone has a completely different path down the river of life. It was fascinating to me, that a few of the people who jumped in first, ended up being the last ones in line at the end of trip. Some people had advantages of better tubes, which helped them stay out in front, just like certain people start their lives with great advantages of opportunity or money. But what was absolutely true was that everyone at some point got stuck on unforeseen rocks and needed help. Most of us completely bottomed out multiple times and were completely surprised and drenched. Sometimes we were delight by these surprises, but most of the time we were set back and left struggling and frustrated. One friend was convinced that the stick she found was absolutely essential in making it down the river, just as certain people are tied to ideals, religion or lovers and are unwilling to look beyond what they believe is "right."

After a lovely recommendation from my oldest friend Angie, whose honesty is almost always very refreshing, I set out to examine nature. I walked around for awhile, finding a quaint Shakespearean garden, Marionette Theater and cool outdoor music venue. Unexpectedly, I stumbled upon a protected and secluded pine tree forest. I sat there for a few moments enjoying the smell of pine trees, when I saw a tiny white feather blowing by the giant trees. The simple beauty was much like the last scene of American Beauty, with the plastic bag blowing. It was so captivating, it inspired me to write this poem, which I dedicate to Haley and Angie.

 

 tiny white feather free

 tiny white feather free
slowly floating, daintily,
Guided by the August breeeze,
whose heated breath blows
Tenderly.

tiny white feather free
eyes closed tight in ecstasy,
smelling riches, green Pine trees,
she smiles, and glides on
Gratefully.

tiny white feather free
Softly witnessing to me,
A weightless Faith enjoyed with Ease,
a glimpse of joy, felt like a tease,
a moment now I write to Freeze:
One of Natural perfection,
Sparking Creative Dissection,
That sends Gifts of sweet Sensation,
to bring an End to My desperation. 

 JESS COFFMAN 

 I couldn't find an image of the pine tree garden in Central Park, but I did find this plaque that sits within the Shakespeare Garden. I loved this whimsical quote from A Midsummer Night's Dream.