I’m standing, near the edge, about to fall,
And listening to pitter-pattered rain
Which started coming down, and through it all
I’ve stood here, soaking wet in loss and pain.
I stare across the whipping, raging sea,
Alone. Acutely, tryingly aware
That any moment I will fall, to be
Consumed among the floods awaiting there—
And yet, I stand. For what, I cannot think,
And yet, I wait, and bear the stormy winds.
I wait, I watch, my toes just at the brink,
For clouds to break, for sunny skies to win.
I’m tossing out a line, a bit of rope.
I’ll wait here, at the edge, and I will hope.