I hover afraid
At the abyss between
the leap and the ledge.
Rigth leg splayed
The left, remembering
the grit of the edge.
This sacred space -
between footholds,
is a monastery.
A shrouded shrine
cast in chaos
for unwilling pilgrims.
Deserve it? Nay...
I am thrust here,
to understand
to empathize
to remember
to discover and word
the terror -
of feeling like falling
the heart squeezed spirally
into a blackhole belly
with the permanence of breathing.
I am thrust here,
to never forget
to never dismiss
to never, minimize -
if ever again,
The right foot finds feeling.
April 6th, 2013.
