I was overcome with awe, beholding
the depth of the cliff below
The whitecaps like the tiny slices
The whitecaps like the tiny slices
of, lace
from my mother’s workshop ago
The impending doom of the rocks severe
The impending doom of the rocks severe
cluttering my dreams each night
And now I am a man
and I have not shaken this drastic fear
So will it be as I gather wrinkles
So will it be as I gather wrinkles
this agent will age me more
So now, I am a man, of lingering memory
is this an omen of my peril
is this an omen of my peril
perhaps death,
Or is this worry only providing me,
Or is this worry only providing me,
with the human option
to dispel fear, and wrap its understanding
to dispel fear, and wrap its understanding
or toss it away with oblivious negligence
’
I really enjoyed this poem. It recalled effectively the discomfort I feel standing on the edge of a cliff, the lightheadedness and weakening of my knees and thighs.