Hulking and heavy, a boulder
hoisted high above a pit,
looming, whispers and
baited breath from below
to chance a glimpse
the moment that it drops.
These few seconds of suspense,
a tiresome feat to behold, do little
to help the one trying to be anchor,
pulling on the ropes in every desperate
attempt to keep the rock above.
It’s seen in the dust that is stirred up,
the unsteady steps that keep trying
to find a more helpful foothold,
the shoes worn down til the soles
have no traction, and the silent
resolve in a grip of a person
whose shaking arms have lasted this long
in a struggle between what
is possible and probable, but
the boulder seeks to take captor
with it, allow the chasm to swallow
whole the one who grasps, white-knuckled.
Is it better to let go of the heavy stone
and move on, in disappointment,
than lose footing and fall in after?