There is a cliff,

Beyond the end of my “No Exit” road,

Up onto the trail,

Through the Cathedral  Woods.

There is a cliff,

Left, onto the side trail,

Carefully up the steep ridge,

Past the big, moss-covered rocks.

Stranded here thousands of years ago,

They’re luminous now in the softening light.

 

There is a cliff,

Coming into view now through the trees,

And my steps are quicker

As I think of you,

Your heart soaring,

As, once more, you saw the place that gave you joy,

That set you free for precious moments,

From unbearable pain.

 

There is a cliff,

Where you stood alone and looked out

Beyond this little bay called Hope,

Far across the wider waters

To a distant horizon.

I see you,

Homemade easel and new canvas under one arm,

Paints and brushes in a tin box in your other hand.

You close your eyes,

And in a moment of exquisite relief,

Head up, raised to the sky as if in prayer,

You take a deep breath of fresh, free air.

Your eyes open now, I see you bow your head,

Aware you can’t stay here forever,

Or fly away – not yet.

There is a cliff:

This is where you used to stand.

“I see through my tears,”

You said many times,

But no one came to wipe them away.

 

There is a cliff.

I knew I would find you.

Here, take my hand,

And we will stand here together,

Becoming more luminous in the darkness

As we wait on the edge.