another day has passed,
the pleading unheard,
i try to reach out by sheer willpower.
thinking of only that person,
how to make her understand,
how to make her hear me?
distracted and small, suddenly
i somehow find myself face to the ground.
frozen dirt and autumn leaves
crowd my blurred vision
i'm frozen like the ground
why can't i get up?
my elbows only bend slightly,
as i try to push myself back up.
the muscles won't move.
both knees throb, and
my lunch -- carelessly thrown
into a plastic bag rather than
tucked safely into my knapsack --
has flown several feet ahead of where i lay.
i forget to check if my cell phone is smashed
in the outer pocket of my knapsack
where it made impact.
but then,
the force that pushed me down
finally lifts.
i can feel my fingers again.
i turn and shift my weight,
so that now i squat precariously between curb
and parking lot asphalt,
dusting off dry bits of earth,
and moistened denim.
miraculously, nothing is torn,
nothing bleeds.
but everything hurts.
i limp to work with the sun
burning my eyes.
i drag the knapsack and plastic bag
separately in each hand,
because with the fall,
a shoulder was twisted,
muscles were pulled in such a way
that carrying anything
over the shoulder or back is
excruciating.
settled late into my office,
i sit crookedly in a chair,
right wrist in a bowl of ice cubes,
while i stubbornly type left-handedly,
needing to express what just occurred.
on the treacherous walk to the office,
all that went through my
jumbled mind, was
you.
you must have finally heard my call.
you heard me trying to make contact.
you laughed at such foolishness,
and pulled the invisible fishing line
between you and i.
you tugged it hard,
deliberately.
i didn't feel it coming,
and it knocked the wind
from me,
leaving me face down in the
wintering floor
of all things dying with autumn passed.
no life left in these browned leaves,
no insects building nests.
no grass peeping through that
frozen ground.
dead.
like your care for me.
you heard me,
and now i heard you.
the dizzying fall
must have been you,
sending me your own message.
to stop.
we're done.
so now i shall ice the rest
of my beaten limbs.
when they heal,
i will probably unlearn the lesson
you tried to teach me today.
the letting go of something loved
isn't easy for a stubborn brat.
and i shall probably wait for you
again.
and again.
and you might not hear me.
again.
and you might trip and make me fall,
again.
but like prometheus and the eagle,
i'll keep taking the fall
until you beat me dead
for selfishness
of wanting me to forget you.
and that i cannot do.