naked cliff diving

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I am stopped;

who are you?

Even the earth is watching to see;

even then hum that comes from

taught heart strings

(the melody of nerves in waiting)

holds quiet in my chest;

scared to move, perhaps;

or scared that you’ll move, too;

or scared to hope that nervous humming
was my last bit of apprehensive nervousness.
My tongue has been swept up
by clichéd visuals: craggy rocks
and plunges into water; precipices,
blinded tours, and giant leaps.
But before I utter any phrase  (clichéd or not),
I am stopped:
who are you?




© afterthoughtcomposer



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