I peer over the edge, feet planted
firmly on rock.
Where did this fear come from?
My hands quiver. I worry
I will fall straight off the face of the Earth.
I am scared I will fly into the abyss,
in my panicking.
My knees knock with fright.
It’s hard to look up at all the mountain peaks
surrounding me, even though they are
so beautiful, so majestic.
Hard to breathe.
Hard to swallow.
My heart is racing.
I used to be able to do this.
Now I feel unsafe.
I try to breathe deep and slow,
fight the urge to cling to the meager,
scrappy weeds pushing up through the granite.
But if I sit down,
the sky might crush me.
I might not be able to get up ever again.
Tears start to drop from my cheeks
more quickly. I’m frustrated.
So frustrated that I can’t do this.
I want to be okay.
I want to feel comfortable here.
I can’t stop sobbing
and feeling helpless.
Why do I feel unsafe
when there is stable ground beneath my feet?