From the base of the precipice

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I always knew there were other destinations
but I didn’t know the route
so I tried to follow my contemporaries
stepping out with false confidence
but I slipped through a crack in the road
falling, sliding down rocky ground and dropping
blindly clutching at any ogre’s sniping claw
to be pulled into dark caverns, and ravaged
before leaping back into the ravine
to be captured again

my scars embroider thin skin
and I have listened to the whispers of my blood
dripping at every insult
thickening at every malignant attack
although I may never be healed
I have ceased reaching towards ill-wishing djins

I hold my arms open at the base of the precipice
with this promise
if you fall I cannot guarantee I will catch you
but I will do what I can to be what you need
when the invisible foe opens his grinning lips
and shows you his teeth

©Jane Paterson Basil

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