By Samantha Terrell
From the rocky cliffside
Where we tremble, I see
Gulls, below, freely
Feeding on puddles and pride
While we dream of deliverance from this craggy place.
A man who comes
Down the mountain to meet us,
Has found his happiness.
He delivers it with a kiss.
And then, he's off! Easily slicing through rising waters,
As a butcher knife through butter.
About the puddles,
Let alone his pride.
Inspired, I try
To gather in
And the vulnerable, forgetting I,
Too, am one who feels.
But the birds have seen it all. They sometimes cry
As we are—afraid of falling, unable to fly.
The only option left, is to climb.
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