Sunday, July 26, 2015

Tightrope Walker: A Poem

The rope stretched on into infinity,
 winding above the chasm of concrete and filth and sound.
 He moved gingerly across it, 
each step more calculated than the last.
 I could hear his breathing, so controlled, so serene,
even from down below.
 I clapped along with the others;
 his infinitesimal form stepped out onto the rope and into history.
 I screamed when the wind made those great spires sway;
 the whole city let out a sigh of relief
 when his feet connected with the cracks in the grimy sidewalk.
When he did it again, we wondered why.
He answered us not with words
but with a gaze full of steely resolve
And determination.
We waited with baited breath;
 he mounted the string again
And performed the impossible once more.

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