The Cliff
She stands solitary
alone
but not lonely
at the end of the path
past the trees
at a clearing,
the tips of her toes
perched at the edge
of the cliff
loose rocks surround
her bare feet
the wind is gusting
whipping her long hair
lashing her face
rain washing over her
mixing with her tears
her dress clinging
to her shivering body
she is numb
she is alive with feeling
she is in turmoil
her arms crossed
hugging herself
not from the cold
or the wet
holding the feelings
to herself
she raises her face
to the heavens
closes her eyes
opens her mouth
tastes the rain
swallows the nourishment
of the earth
gaining strength from it
feeling the wetness
on her face
trickling down her neck
running between her breasts
raising her hands
to her face
she wipes the water away
futilely
she is weak
she is troubled
she is dangerous
looking over the cliff
down the face
the sea crashes against
jagged rocks
sending spray toward her
she leans forward
a bit
her feet unsteady
her legs weak
the wind strong
closing her eyes
swaying
teetering
on the brink
a crow sounds in
the trees behind her
snapping her out of
the reverie
steadying herself
she turns slowly
checks behind her
clouds making the path
dark
obscured
hazy
she does not need to see
she knows from where
she has come
to her left is a path
gravel
unsteady
winding
to her right is a path
paved
smooth
straight
the end of either
is not in sight
they are continuous
each
she turns back to the cliff
desperation
despair
despondency
she sinks to her knees
hands cover her face
weeping
sobbing
shaking
she knows she cannot
stay here
to do so would be
certain death
she must move
this she knows
the indecision is
overwhelming
frightening
terrifying
she cannot go back
she cannot go forward
she
must
choose
just within her reach
just before her
an oddly shaped stone
feeling it between her fingers
rolling it in her hands
touching it to her lips
clutching it to her chest
grasping it firmly in one hand
it fits perfectly
molded to the contours
within its confines
it is alive
it gives her more strength
to the side of her
a gnarled branch
worn smooth from time
and elements
slowly running her fingers
across its length
feeling the ageless beauty
firmly grasping it in her hand
she uses it for support
as she raises herself
from the earth
stone in hand
branch for support
she has made her
decision
she takes a few
tentative steps
down her chosen path
hesitating
faltering
feeling the strength
of the elements
around her
within her
of her
she heads
purposefully
confidently
fearlessly
down
the
chosen
path.
Copyright ©1998 Joy A. Jensen