Hanging

 

Fingers clutching that rope

while dangling above a canyon

below are a mass of cactus and broken glass,

surely death will come

if I actually let go

even though am too exhausted to continue

any farther along the cord

that stretches between two cliffs.

 

It all seemed so possible

just using hands to move

from one end to other,

never imagined I would have to stop

then be left stuck in the middle

and forced to see the fate

so convinced would never be a risk.

 

Inside, pride drilled its power,

can’t surrender to this failure

have to find the energy to keep moving,

but at last gravity wins,

at last falling so fast towards that supposed doom,

then pulled the rip cord on the parachute

tried to pretend would never need.

 

Eventually to land safely upon the ground

only to discover those threats

weren’t as terrible as imagined,

Quickly to have learned how walking along the ground

actually let me finish my journey

to the place I wouldn’t have otherwise reached.