I would prefer not to fall,
But I fear I’ve already hit.
I won’t open my eyes,
I refuse to see if the dust has yet settled,
Because I used to be so high.
I used to know where I was.
But since the winds,
Since the loneliness and tears,
I’ve lost myself.
I’ve taken walks,
Along a cliff’s edge,
But I refused to fall,
And I refused to stay grounded.
I’ve had mild conversations,
Tip toeing around the edge,
Lightly lifting my feet,
But running back to safety each time I came close to truth.
In my mind I’m not here.
In my mind I’m nowhere,
Sort of dangling in the air,
Holding on with three fingers,
To the tight rope I fell off.
Do I let go?
And if I don’t,
Do I try and climb back up?
Could I find my place again?
But I can’t decide,
Is it better to live high,
And take what I am given?
Or is it better to fall,
And search for what I may love?
But anything,
Top or Bottom,
Must be better than floating somewhere in the middle.