words

holding steady almost killed me
put my thumb on the pulse of progress and held it..
down.

my stubborn insistence on staying the course trapped me in
my own interpretation of reality:
blind men see more clearly than i the relationship between falling, falling
and forgetting to come up for air.

the trick is crying
cry myself into a drought then crack the surface so that
torrents of words come rushing, rushing
from beneath the vestige of calm and indifference.

holding steady almost killed me
release my hold and watch me pulse, pulse
to the beat.