Poem of grasping for an anchor

Pear green moments of hope
Melt into depth and flatness
Heat and cold entwined
In pieces of a splintered soul

Colors never seen before
Would come and go
Echoing like thunder
Evil fibers of tapestry

A tornado pulling, swirling
Sucking dark green air
Trooping to the cellar
Until danger passes

Under the pressure of buckling
Terror growing
To thick green mass
Each action attempted fragile like glass

Watching
Slipping
On the surface
Falling

Rocking with shortened breath
The impulse
To separate the threads
Wind the rope

Pulling hand over hand
Across the chasm
Dizzy and exhilarated
Knowing the rope

Its thickness
But not knowing
How it will ever be
anchored

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