Careful not to Fall

At the edge of the cliff, I stared straight into the eyes of darkness.
It smiled while pushing me off. Then grabbing me back in.
Pushing me, grabbing me…
teaching me that I am the only one who really sees cruelty.

The sky disappeared. The air trembled.
My breath broke into shards of silence.
I never fell over, but always stood at the edge,
like she taught me from the start.
Fear was my grounding,
its weight the only thing that kept me standing.

Every laughter behind me was an echo of hate,
every silence a cliff reopening beneath my feet.
I learned to breathe between tremors,
to smile through the shaking.
And though the darkness still watches,
still waits for my footing to slip,
I no longer ask it for mercy.

Because standing at the edge
taught me more about balance than safety ever could.
And one day, when the wind rose again,
I didn’t fight it.
I spread my arms wide —
and finally,
I flew.