Writing
Standing on the precipice
I look down--
The cool water calls but
Rocks sharp enough to fillet jut out to the left
Trees wait to impale on the right
I look up and whisper a prayer
The Lord says, "Jump."
With eyes closed, I leap
The rocks scratch at my belly
Tree branches grasp for hands and feet
The plunge into the water stings
As it soothes the scratches and scrapes
But I survive another critique
Like the imagery. Thanks for sharing this
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