Helpless Hopeless Happiness

 

Standing

Toes hanging

Sun glaring in my eyes

Sparkling sand

Giant precipice before me

The car has run out of fuel

And I need to go forward.

I must.

I have no choice.

When I jump –

Shall I fall?

Shall I splash?

Shall I thud?

Shall I glide?

Or shall I fly?

My blood eats itself with fear

The anticipatory hairs slice my every pore

A flood of emotion pours out mine eyes

Will I trip my running start?

The sand burns my almost calloused feet

My skin itches dry with overwhelm

Will my angels catch me

Or shall gravity rape my soul?

I mustn’t falter –

I can’t,

I won’t,

I laugh at this canyon from high above

and scream,

“It is my turn to fly!”