by Melissa Uzumcuoglu

Created on: April 29, 2008

ON A CLIFF'S EDGE
(there's a statue)

There is something you don't know,
something about me,
a woman who walks, chooses, prays
and holds her future
in her sunburned hands.

Can you picture a statue
covered with moss,
eroded by the wind of time?

She'd show the ravaged completion
of things and beings
that have the power
of merely existing.

Take a walk on the cliff's edge
and watch that hazel lizard
slither on the flaky rock.

Behold the majestic figure,
while the ivy creeps upon her
as she stands in hieratic solitude.

See how she holds her breath,
avoiding life's servitude,
dominating from the top of her world.

Imagine the old stone -
heated by the afternoon sun -
that had once been smooth,
polished to perfection.

Begin to understand
how she is quietly trapped, corroded
by the beautiful tediousness
of unexplored possibilities.

I agree, her eyes are empty,
yet she's begging to be delivered
from this grave
of soulless splendor.

Now you know why
I will never again
stand helplessly motionless
on the edge of my life.

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