Precipice of Danger
Why did I go to Peru? To a rustic camp somewhere high in the mountains? With a broken foot and ankle in a cast and resting on a leg scooter?
Our guide utters something not in English, and other campers pick up the pace of clearing a new site for our encampment. Shoveling snow. Moving rocks. Erecting tents. Building fire pits.
Why is everyone glancing at me and shaking their heads? Because I am just sorting gear? Because I appear to be the only American of the dozen or so campers? And the only one not pulling his or her weight? Fine, you try hard labor with a bad leg.
Break time at sunset and everybody huddles around a large barrel with a blazing fire inside. Everyone but me. I try to scoot in but other campers won't let me. Snickering faces are bathed in the warm, orange glow from the barrel.
Soon, everyone leaves the barrel but me. They line up on a rocky ledge to retrieve dinner from a wagon. It looks like chipped beef, but I can't get close enough to be sure. I guess I'll miss dinner again. They find rocks to sit on and drag the fire barrel away from me, so they can stay warm.
I look for a rock to sit on. I go up a slight incline, and I find one 10 yards from the group. But as I lift my leg off the scooter, somebody from the group yells. I look up, and others are shouting at me. I don't know what they are saying.
I sit on the rock, and my leg scooter rolls backward toward a cliff. It disappears. I stand to look, and I find that I am on the precipice. I topple backward and fall, but my right hand grasps a branch. I do not know how a tree got up there, but I hang on tightly. Now both hands are on the branch as my body dangles helplessly in nothingness. The group's screams have stopped. I hear a crack. I yell for help, but no one comes. Another crack, and a big piece of bark falls away. I yell for help, but no one comes. I can see the yellow innards of the branch. I yell for help, and now I have to pee.
I awake in my warm bed and head to the bathroom.
Man In The Window
his shoulders hold him
fast to that broken sill
four stories high
his tomorrows shadow
the shapes of men passed
before, their hands
gnarled by heavy hammers
nails that bind and pull
hard wood together
climbing atop scaffolding
like we would rope swing
into the cool lake
our backs to the world
only directing our eyes
ahead
now the leaves fall in piles
and the man knows
he can count the years
he has left on both hands
and his shoulders remain
the heaviest part of him
his dreams still light
as air
Melancholic Musings
Sometimes it feels like I'm inside a small glass dome at the bottom of a deep, dark ocean. I see the cracks gathering in the glass and I know that eventually I'm either going to drown, alone and helpless under the weight of it all or I will struggle and struggle until I breach the surface only to find no land in sight.
Sometimes I feel that spiteful, stubborn spark within me yelling at me, spurring me to just keep moving. But sometimes that darkness leaks into the dome and I'm surrounded by a miasma of all of that pain and self loathing, and it gets so much harder to kindle that spark in me.
I guess I'm just intelligent enough to see not only myself trapped in this cycle, but everyone else as well. A part of me knows that to break the cycle, if such a thing is even possible, that I would have to break that dome that surrounds each and every one of us. And that it may just cut us down to nothing in the process. Besides who am I to be capable of anything like that. Just another drowning man.
I try to wave to the others through the darkness in between our respective prisons, hoping that they see me, even though I can't see them. But I hardly see any evidence that they even know that I'm here. Perhaps the miasma grips them deep as well. I don't know.
But eventually something has to give, even if that something is me. Until then, I search for the light where I can, and hope that others do the same. Maybe one day we can cast these dark waters in warm light and finally truly see each other. Finally help each other without the pain and paranoia and greed poisoning us all.
I hope so, more than anything.
Lovely Flames
Twisting an twirling
unfurling, curling, swirling
Embers breaking for the sky, yearning
the wood burning, encouraging.
Yet it's so dangerously broken
ever changing, always breaking like the ocean
angry, hungry, breaking free with an explosion
relieving in pain, smoke and
flames furling, hungry, blooming.
Sat in serenity
not always the enemy
giving warmth to the exhausted, holding sincerity.
Beautifully broken, but still kindly
So, just be a flame. Harsh when need be, but also lovely
Busy
Everywhere, people walking, some running. Others checking their watch like the rabbit from Wonderland. Other people casually walking and watching their phones, some people walking with friends or their kids and being obnoxious. Everybody going somewhere, holding something. Barely having time to look around. No, they have enough time even though they're busy. If only they'd lift they're heads up and actually look.
The bees are so busy making honey and defending their homes from wasps. But they see the colors of summer, flowers, and watch the small animals with curiosity. They watch everything, see everybody, they see more than any other person ever would in five years than in the humans ninety years.
Look, smell. Just remember that time can go fast or slow. Just make it memorable.
Run..RUn..RUN!!!!!!
Running through a dark and creepy forest at night
no light in sight, nothing to brighten up the dark abyss
that's alright..everything is fine.. you're gonna be fine..
is what I would've never said if I knew what was coming next
a pack of wolves on the prowl.. they saw me.. and started to howl.
Now I'm on the run which isn't much fun.. when you're running from wild animals that want to eat you or rip you apart whichever comes first. it's hard not to overthink when I could die in a blink of an eye.. oh God I don't wanna die... God please save my life I say knowing I never pray but this time is as good as any to ask the man of many for some help in this dangerous and scary situation.
I run into a cave, I will say I was feeling pretty brave going into this cave not knowing what would be in there, anything would be good except for a bear.. my heart was pounding as fast as it could go.. I needed to get home but I'm stuck in this cave in the woods..I can try to lay down and rest now..