Sunset Cliff

 

I must be going.
My shadow is twice my size.
Soon jumpers will come.

Shame often kills them
Before the cliff does its work.
Pride has such power.

Despair brings them too.
Thinking no one will listen
They leave with the sun.

We wrote death poems,
Sought honor in seppuku.
All such death is waste.

Once I almost jumped,
But stopped two young lovers
With more to live for.

That’s how it started.
Now, one hundred twenty-nine
Lives are linked with mine.

I ask them to talk.
That’s how thin the thread can be
Pulling them to life.

Sometimes I fail them
While thrill-seekers cheer and clap
And tape their falling.

How can I do this?
I ask you, how can I not?
I must be going.

 

 

© 2008 Michael Yanega





 

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