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Open Poetry #7
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lovewargoddess
New Member
since 2000-05-17
Posts 1


0 posted 2000-05-17 02:08 AM


I once stood cautiously away from the ledge, away from the ledge of the cliff of my morals.  And then I once stood at the ledge of this cliff, peering down into the dismal blackness, wondering how deep it really was.  I would stare, wondering what it was like down in the recesses of the cliff, of the shadows and the endless drop.  I once hung from the ledge, trying my hardest to stretch down as far as possible without falling; without loosing my strained grip on the ledge.  And never did I loose my steady grip on the ledge, and always did I manage to pull myself back up where I had started.  Never would I fall without my own permission.  And once in my grief, I wondered what it would feel like to fly to the depths, to be free from the obstructing ground.  I tightly closed my eyes and threw my face to the sky and felt the cold breeze run over my outstretched arms.  And as I wondered the outcome of what my flight might be, I let myself go and I let myself free.  And as the cold wind slipped through my fingers, the cliff euphorically floated past, but I did not realize where I was.   The pain and the shock of hitting a shelf hurt so much that there was no jar, sting, pain or numbness.  And only when I realized where I was, when I realized I wasn't in black, but a partial shadow, did I feel the pain, the deep throbbing pain of the fall.  I could see the ledge and a stream of light pouring over the edge.  I screamed for a rope and I screamed for a way out, but no one answered.  It seemed that no one answered because no one was listening.  I began to climb the wall, for every two feet I climbed up, I fell one foot down.  Slowly I felt the ledge, the familiar and tested ledge; and I, with much strain, pulled myself up.  I looked around, tired and dazed.  I looked around for another face, someone I can turn to.  Someone to help me heal the pain of the fall, but I see no one.  My face is covered in dirt, the residue of my fall, of the dark crevice of where I have been.  The tears, the sweat, and the blood have failed to remove the remnant of my descent.  I turned my marred face towards the heavens and yell like I have never yelled before.  And as my head hangs, my chin to my chest, I hear footsteps of people who had been watching all along.  As I kneel here on the ledge I begin to wonder the reason they have come.  I wonder if they have come to help; to heal my wounds, I wonder if they have come to throw me back down, and I wonder if they have come to scoff at my injuries and at my fall.  



© Copyright 2000 lovewargoddess - All Rights Reserved
Irie
Senior Member
since 1999-12-01
Posts 1493
Washington State
1 posted 2000-05-17 02:43 AM


I'd like to think they came to help someone in need!
This was SO WELL expressed. I love how you put this
falling down into words. I too have been there.
Pick your self up, brush yourself off and keep moving.
We learn from falling down, we gain character and it makes us
who we are. It makes us stonger and wiser!
Well written and welcome to Passions!  



[This message has been edited by Irie (edited 05-17-2000).]

Kit McCallum
Administrator
Member Laureate
since 2000-04-30
Posts 14774
Ontario, Canada
2 posted 2000-05-17 06:38 AM


I love the comparison you've drawn Lovewargoddess ... an incredible descent into a brief loss of morales ... now awaiting the unknown repercussions.  This was vivid!

Best wishes,
/Kit

netswan
Senior Member
since 2000-03-28
Posts 1369
Washington
3 posted 2000-05-18 04:45 AM


Welcome to Passions lovewargoddess

This is great and would fit really well
into the prose section of this forum.
Check it out.

Wonderful imagery
Thanks for writing this piece.

netswan

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