Ridiculous, I thought, with my fingers
Vainly trying to grasp the surface of
A sheet of glass. One narrow ledge was all
I had to hold, one narrow ledge above
The narrow street below. Ridiculous,
I thought, how I always seem to balance
Till I find a way to fall away and
Damn myself—and the street’s always open
To a free-falling man.
I thought I knew
Where this staircase led, but I never knew
The city went black in the wind of a
Storm, or that the sweet face of that young girl
Would melt at the touch of my fingertips.
I never understood the crying smile
Of a free-falling man.
I never meant
To hold what I loved in a broken hand.
Ridiculous, I thought, lying broken
On some halfway civilized plane, my eyes
Gazing above the gray skyline; heaven
That may find me, hell that may take my soul.
Damn me, I thought. Damn me, for I let go.
“We’re going to use nine megaton warheads in space and we’re not sure they’re large enough to be effective. Why would you even consider using kiloton-range surface-to-air warheads as back-up?” The answer was succinct. “Because they’re all we have.”
Be always safe,
Karen