by Amalina Taib, edited by Sianne Fraser
We are at the verge of the cliff, I feel.
That sky-high feeling, I always tell myself,
Can change into desperate inhales.
The lungs shorter of air the higher we go.
I always keep the cliff within sight
Throughout the climb.
Sometimes as a precautionary step.
Sometimes I just find myself calculating the possibility
Of falling, both of us, falling.
I remember jumping down
Letting myself be devoured by gravity.
But gravity is home
And the breeze put me at rest
And I breathed again, freely.
I hear the cliff calling, crackling
While gravity maintains its force.
The time is near, I feel,
That we touch down on the ground
For eternity and for real.