� pedestal � 2003-01-10 � 7:20 p.m. �
Standing on the edge, she freezes like a doe who has lost her fawn...
Everything and nothing sprawled in the valley before her... salvation or damnation rests as her choice.
She drops to her knees... and hopes the wind will hold her fate.
Like a good woman, she prays.
Each breath weighs just a little more... The pedestal she kneels on begins to give.... Inhaling... and exhaling.... hard and shallow
She thinks she can control her breath....
Like the bits of her past and the future before her, she was sure her hand held silk over it all.
She is wrong... now, then and always wrong. Never the one to hold blame... never one to know regret... she was wrong in dreaming big... wrong in thinking she was strong enough to carry the world on her own.
Wrong to believe that she was prepared for anything.
Prepared for anything but this edge... this moment... this valley... Anything but the rock, the wind and the choice she has to make.
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