Saving a Life
I am, I nearly believe,
the Samaritan who fell
into the ambush of his heart
on the way to another place.
The
Guest
Wendell
Berry
When stepping
in isn’t even
enough not even
nearly enough
because the
water’s deep
and the ledge's
high and choose:
toe or whole—wade
in or throw
your skin and
bones over (you just
don’t know) the low
or high water mark.
It’s not sink
or swim it’s how quick
you want to (or
can) know to do both:
it's here you feel by instinct the ankle
boneyou pivot on
is the skull
bone you break open and at some
point, when you’re
over your own
head, your
hair’s a savior’s cape
and a noose too. And when it all
begins
to go gray, yes
at first gray, you still
have time to
choose. But it’s when
those sprinkles
of light, like open throat
kaleidoscopes that
preen and get busy
before even
your own mind’s made
up you think
shitfuckgoddam what if
this guy’s got
me by the throat? Who’s
bloody coming
in for me?
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