Litkicks Message Board Archive

Fear of the Drop

Posted to Poetry

At the point of faith
I hesitate before stepping out
From where I stand.
My feet seem rooted
As if I am a part
Of the earth
In which I plant my ideas,
And the ground feels secure.
I think I see you beckon
From across the vast canyon
Lying between us.
You look so small,
I doubt my interpretation.
My eyes take in the rope rails
Of our tenuous link,
The frayed sisal
That might snap with my weight,
The rotting boards fragilely lashed,
Several steps missing.
The canyon gapes below.
Inhaling deeply I step forward.
Your hand finds my own.
The sound of the silent terror
Is behind,
And you understand me.