On The Cliff Edge

I stood upon the cliff edge,
my hair lifting in the breeze.
The sun is setting on the horizon,
and the sea is vengefully cruel below
Smashing waves upon waves
against the cliff face,
angrily protesting
yet quietly warning
In the undercurrent
Of a storm approaching.
Where are the clouds?
They’re hanging over my head.
I look up,
Terrified—
A scream plastered on face
Etched by the hands that frame it
Like an infamous scream
That we all know.
I feel it crumble
breaking apart,
One eye at a time
One finger at a time
Piece by piece
My shattered self rests
Upon the green grass
As the sun sets on the horizon.
A glow of indelible warmth
Casts shadows over my shattered self,
Leaving me bereft
Alone
Incapable of redemption…
I cannot hate
Cannot love
Will not want this shattered state.
Where is my salvation?
I look for it in you—
And think of all the princes,
And knights,
And horses,
That fill those fairy tales.
I realise then,
Standing on that cliff
With the breeze in my hair
And the stars in my eyes
Above me,
Watching over me,
I am my own salvation
My hero
My savior.
The sun will rise tomorrow
Even if I fall down
And suffocate.
The sun will rise again
And the memory of me
Will be lost in time
As a pleasant memory.
Somehow, some way,
I piece together the pieces
That are floating in the wind—
I will catch each one,
No matter how hard,
And if I fall,
Embraced by the water,
Somehow, some way
I will swim back to shore,
To stand on that cliff again
And feel the breeze
Ruffling through my hair.

 

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3 thoughts on “On The Cliff Edge

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