Tongues of the Wind.

I’ve been here before,
on this cliff-face.
where the winds will push you,
wherever they may.
They speak in sharper curses
with each new gust,
that scrap scabs and scars,
to draw new blood.
I take the next steps
into each footprint,
that should have just faded,
but can’t go away.
I know all those dangers,
the edge always brings,
but I cannot ignore a path
I’ve always been down.
My stomach starts clenching
to fiercely remind me,
that with a single wide step,
I could simply fall.
I stand but an inch before,
unmeasurable depths,
I’m nowhere but in fear,
of what will come next.
The jagged rocks call me,
down from the deep.
They would tear me apart
and they all know.
I close my eyes tightly,
put my hands up.
The wind calls me forward,
to take the final step.
And I almost listen to it,
without even reason.
Rain spits into my face,
in an angry retort.
But I turn the other cheek,
and walk myself away.
Though I was drawn back here
in a vacuous way.
I chose to come back here,
and I’ll leave with grace.