Fragile hands wrap a
fading cable, the final
scale of smooth walls that
soar their deception,
scattered footholds
where shards of the past
stand sentry, guard the
way up
to an edge too sharp to
stand; stumble at the dizzying view
of the possible before I
submit to gravity,
tumble me safe.
What shape does your path look like?
When do you know it’s time to push past a boundary?
What does breakthrough feel like to you?
It’s going to be okay, sweet girl. You’re going to be okay.
I did it. I wrote my way out.
I can’t say more yet. It may be awhile, if ever, before I’m able to share specifics. And I’m still going to see this through, of course. We still have so many more words to exchange, a what-comes-next that can be anything we want. I’m not going away.
But I did it. I rescued her. She’s safe.
I’m safe.
Comments