The shimmering

I fall

The precipice just dark enough that no light penetrates

Just deep enough where my shouts aren’t heard

Down there, there is nothing, nothing but me

I fill the void, spread out like a thin layer of lightly salted butter

There is no warmth

Only cold, piercing every orifice on my body

I am the dark

The dark is me

Alone, lost in a space filled with me

But then, a shimmering

Like a moth attracted to light, I move

Can it be?

Is there light in this forsaken pit?

I approach, hesitant, watching for a trick, a slight of the hand, but there is nothing

Nothing but the shimmering

The shimmering becomes my focus, my purpose

It rises, and I follow

In the dark there is one more

Up and up and up

No looking back

I emerge like a newly risen phoenix with the shimmering by my side

Once again, I walk the edge

Precipice on one side, salvation on the other

I look for the shimmering, but it is gone, having done its job

Now it’s my turn

With gratitude I jump, finally choosing




This poem is about: 
My community
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