CONSIDERING HIGH PLACES
Neither weak moments, pitch-black
thoughts nor a desire to live no more
keeps me from the balcony.
It’s not the unknown–drum-beat
of dreams–rising up and out
to signal all existence.
It’s not wondering how flying feels
soaring effort-free, boundless
heartsick urge to land
or hearing only echoes when I
shout down my loneliness.
It’s not fear of finding nothing
when the deed is tried and done.
It’s the push and pull of elements;
the amalgamated entity that shrinks back
from the rail, paying homage
to the mystery in me,
and all that it must be.
Author’s Comment: Living fours floor up for fifteen years, sometimes I wouldn’t allow myself out on the balcony–always because of a quietly-overwhelming feeling to stay away from the edge.