the delicate art of walking a line~

i feel like i’m walking on a line.

balancing carefully

shifting and veering and hinging

from side to side.

never falling.

on the edge of a cliff i look over

and i can feel what it would feel like to fall.

let go.

sometimes i get close.

too close.

the ground crumbles under my palms

as i reach and reach

for a closer look.

let go.

i could, you know.

it would be so easy to just fall.

the wind will carry me down

whispering through my hair

my neck

my chest

all the way down

let go.

and that would be it.

the waves would hold me

sing my name

lick my wounds until

there aren’t any left to heal.

let go.

but i don’t.

i don’t because it’s not that easy is it.

it’s not that easy

you can’t let go because

there is still a line to be walked

i don’t because at least up here on the cliff

you can still see the sun set

and the seasons change

and your hair grow longer

and your brothers age.

i don’t because the wind will not whisper

and the waves will not sing.

they will cast me into a darkness

where there is no line

no cliff

no decision.

and so i will walk this tedious score

that has become all that i have

to prove that i ever

even took a breath

in this world.

i will walk

because now

at least

i made a choice.