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To Wolfgar from the edge.

I wrote this for my dad about 20 years ago. 

 

So close to the edge again, again, again.

So close you can see it's verges, it's plunges, 

It's deep dark places.

You hear it's snapping, tightly stretched wires.

You feel it's all pervading dampness and smell

Something so personal and familiar

It has no name in this world.

So close to the edge again, again, again. 

You've  been here so many times

You know the drill.

Don't be tempted. Dont look down.

And whatever else, don't try to run.

Keep still. Feel the draw.

Listen. Smell. And breathe.

And breathe again.

Don't look down and don't look away.

Feel the bleak turmoil, but keep still anyway.

You stand on tiptoe on that precipice and reach out your arms

And feel the empty space and hear the sickly thud.

Stronger than the empty silence, but for now,

So close to the edge, keep still.

 

◄ 100% Zero

Arriving at Annapurna Basecamp ►

Comments

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Hazel ettridge

Mon 2nd Apr 2018 10:38

Thank you Anya. But I sometimes get clumsy and fall over my own words in these 'comments boxes.

<Deleted User> (13762)

Mon 2nd Apr 2018 10:35

hey no probs Hazel x

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Hazel ettridge

Mon 2nd Apr 2018 10:07

Sorry Col, absolutely grateful for your response. Certainly did not mean others shouldn't comment. I'm such a careless communicator at times. Forgive please.

<Deleted User> (13762)

Sun 1st Apr 2018 22:47

I'm sorry, I thought he had responded. Apologies if you didn't want others to comment Hazel. All the best, Colin.

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Hazel ettridge

Sun 1st Apr 2018 21:08

Thanks Col. I know this is my poem, but I feel that David is the one who should be responding. I don't have any arms to curl into when I need it - but I know the feeling.

<Deleted User> (13762)

Sun 1st Apr 2018 19:51

the edge of anywhere is a fearsome place to be but it's good (in a way) to go there and be able to come back in order to know what it's like to be there. Many people don't know what it's truly like. David's writing often takes us there and we glimpse it. I'm sure your father went there many times during the war and afterwards. I know my grandfather did. It came back to haunt him in his final years. And of course depression can take us there too. I tweeted the following lines just the other day:

'I fear depression more than death

The path beside the cliff edge
The tangled branches in a forest
The crowd of voices in my head
These are the places I fear to tread

Curl me into a ball within your arms'

It turned into a poem which I put on my blog. I thought I wouldn't put it here but maybe I will as, in some ways, it continues a thread of responses.

Col.

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Hazel ettridge

Sun 1st Apr 2018 17:21

This poem was originally written from my own edge to my dad in recognition of his edge which linked to his experiences in WW2.
So although it wasn't written for you it was put on this blog as a dedication to you. That's got to be worth something.

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Hazel ettridge

Sun 1st Apr 2018 17:18

David, I have no useful advice to give. And I don't have the intellect for useful responses to other comments you have made. For myself it just makes sense to stay with what is in front of me with courage (which is what you appear to be doing) and as much humility and kindness as I can muster.

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