I considered briefly,
The possibility of jumping

I wouldn’t have been the first.

I’d seen pictures of a woman once,
Curled up in a barrel,
She must have been a daredevil.
Who else would tempt the beings of hell,
By dancing down a waterfall?
The only thing lying between
Her and death’s embrace,
A thin seal of wood.
(probably leaky)

I’d once read an article of a boy
Exhausted with the effort
Of molding joy out of sorrow.
His faith in life so diminished,
To throw what was left of it,
Into the curling, hungry mists beneath.
His body was in tow.

I’d heard the story
Told by firelight,
Of a lady who’s love
Was cast aside.
And with a heart that grew to be,
Like a raven’s wing
Seething with vengeance ripe and hot
Gingerly grasped her last lover’s hand,
And pulled it down with her,
To keep him in an embrace eternal,
In her bed of vapor and fog.

Watching the white water,
Tumble and dash across the rocks
Eager to fling itself over the edge
And spill into the death others,
Had already attained
I considered jumping,

Briefly.

For a moment.

Before turning to find,
The footpath along its side
The safe way
To the end.