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Trigger Warning - these poems are published as they have been submitted by our TSF Community. They are unspoiled, and could cause triggering. Please make sure you are in a safe place before viewing them.
Walking the emotional tightrope.
It seems that life is like walking a tightrope. A
rope that is drawn above the ground. You are climbing
the ladder your heart is fluttering, your hands are
clammy. You reach the top and there it is, stretching
for miles ahead of you. You close your eyes. Maybe
when you open them it will be gone. You will be safely
on the ground with no fears, no worries. Life will be a
breeze and you wont have to do this. But no, your eyes
open and it's still there.
You look at the ground. Below you there is a thousand
faces staring, watching, waitng. "He'll never do it"
someone says.
You grit your teeth, take a depp breath and take the first
tentative step. Your stomach sonks as the rope sags under
your weight. You sawy, as the second foot edges its way
onto the rope. your arms stretch, your bretahing is heavy,
and pulse racing. You don't look down, you look straight
ahead through blinding tears.
Ever so slowly you start dragging your feet one after the
other inching your way across.
You're perspiring, but you just have to let it pour. There's
nothing you can do. You've reachede the point of no return.
Step after step, you continue. Slowly your confidence grows.
This is easy. You're almost running. Of course you can do
this! From below comes the swirling music of the merry-go-
round. You hear the laughter of the people as they watch
clowns tumble and fall. You see the animals prance below.
Then, without warning, you get caught in a loop-hole. Your
foot faulters as a long buried memory or emotion flutters
up and starts to choke you. Your eyes close. Tears of rage
sting your cheeks as you begin to plummet. You spin down
uncontrollably. There is no safety net and you hit the sawdust.
Coudsa form around as i lay there stunned and hurting.
Slowly you stand. You are alone as your legs carry you wobbly
back to the ladder. Your head is spinning in the deafening
silence, as you start to climb the ladder. Dizzily, you go
rung by rung. Maybe this time you'll make it. There won't
be any loopholes or htiches to trip you.
Maybe one day you'll reach the end of the rope. Maybe one day
you'll know what's on the other side and you can clim down and
only need to tread on solid ground.
©
Tyrone
1999
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