Separation

When the ground crumbles to pieces

Beneath your tiny feet,

What will you do?

Stretch out your smooth, thin fingers

And grasp at straws.

Hold on just a little bit longer,

Tighter.

An iron grip would suffice

But a flimsy clutch will have to do.

Remember to breathe in,

Out,

Slow and even.

Putty legs are no excuse to fall,

And eyes that water are prettier when dry.

Your thumping heart beats

As blood pulses through your veins.

Synapses send sparks to make a murky picture clear:

 

You are still human.

You are still here.