I held your tiny hand, tugged you away from danger
carried you safely to the other side
I protected you from water’s edge and ocean’s undertow—
the drowning tears of your uncertainties
I watched from the sidelines as you changed—
dwindling into someone I no longer recognized
Now, dismay burdens me,
cements me in place as you scale the precipice
I call out, “Don’t! Turn back! Wait for me!”
as your compulsion drives you higher, higher
I perceive the cracks in your mask
even as you disillusion those who still believe in you
I reach futilely skyward, my feet anchored in place,
unable to halt your ascent over crumbling rock
I try, and try again, to guide you to sure footing
but you ignore my words, indulging in illusions of independence
I weep, a witness to your self-destruction,
as your frailties and obsessions force your fall
Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
No comments:
Post a Comment