deepundergroundpoetry.com
Equilibrada
atop this wicked peak,
trembling legs stand firm ~
inured to the constant
restlessness for action;
focus becomes instinct,
the goal clear and precise
decision to move
from one space to another
has always been territory
claimed for the living;
it often feels I’ve been dead
for far too long to remember
how to breathe deeply enough
to sustain my existence
one foot steadfastly engaged
in dramatic battle
with self-destruction,
the other poised to run
~ afraid of its own shadow ~
greedy for anything
resembling safety
down these slippery slopes,
inky darkness seeps
into midnight forests;
pitched paths overgrown
and unsure
weaving treacherously
through dead roots,
husked timber sown with seeds
of pain and regret
covered in love’s gnarled vines,
withered to gray
while hiding from the sun
ghosts roam the decline,
wandering restlessly
in winter’s limbo-mist;
wailing and waiting,
aching and mourning
in sanguine symphony
as dancing dysfunctions
eager for a misplaced step,
grind sticks and stones
just in case today is the day
my balance falters
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