Two

We were standing on a precipice,

the edge of something beautiful,

with our hands

together.

I convinced them to let go,

push me off,

step away.

So I was falling down

and there was nothing I could say,

nothing to raise me

back through the air.

My plea

made it worse instead.

I tried too late

to make them see

I wasn’t dead.

*

I had failed to see the crumbled sandstone

lip of the cliff,

could not feel my own ragged fragments

tearing away like a ship spar,

my soul has never found a place to rest.

The salt on the air was not visible

but I could taste it, sour in my stomach,

flavoured glass ripping insides out.

Maybe it wasn’t that, maybe it was the

words I heard

and the ones I could not say,

a flood slammed against a dam wall,

until I had to scream them as it broke.

A vicious uproar,

the tide scared away any that would listen.

There was a desperation to the flow

and desperation stinks.

The good thing is

once the rush has subsided

and all the sticks

have settled again, there won’t be another flood for a long time,

no more risk of being cut

or broken,

at least until a new version of you

is sucked into an atmosphere

full of stormy tendencies

and unforgiving conclusions.

But if you survive the first time,

you will always stay alive.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s