Fear of Falling

and this moment arrived when
I first came to understand
all that had gone before had
led up to this very moment
this the edge of the precipice
where I could step off and
unending breeze
past my watering eyes
heavy and light
no weight but ever plummeting


I could cling as a babe
to her mama’s soft breast
not growing or weaning
milk dribbling
from the corner of my pursed lips
hold me! sing me a lullaby!
when even she shook out her apron
sending me flying
right out and over
always down

and every single thing
every tear-soaked sheet and
mewling cry and
wicked betrayer’s kiss and
trembling nicotine-stained fingers
and every raised fist and
unanswered prayer and
groaning lamentation
and every empty meaningless fuck and
empty bottle and
downcast glance
one upon the other
before my eyes

I squeeze my lids tightly shut
but no matter
I’m still careening
ever downward
and the memories flood past
and then
instead of bursting
into a million pieces spraying
vaporized blood and
bits of brain and bone…

I slam chest first
right into your open waiting arms
and you wrap yourself around me
hold me tight and
all that fear of falling
was naught but a waste

you were waiting all along
I just had to
myself into your care
and all the past shit
that’s got my head twisted
you don’t care
you hold my face
wipe my tears with your thumbs
smile kindly into my soul

and healing begins

tara caribou | ©2020

Read more like this in my poetry book, Fallen Star Rising.

31 Comments on “Fear of Falling

  1. This just pulled my heart. All the hardships endured, yet in the end… something beautiful was waiting for you. This is just amazing. I love this!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Tara your poetry never ceases to crack open my heart…. heartbreaking, and hopeful…..

    we all look for the “magical other” looking into eyes, arms and perhaps discovering there is no ‘other’ we are one soul searching to connect with ourselves ‘just walking each other home’

    that is where it takes me. thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I agree with you. I’m noticing more and more how afraid people seem to have become about “getting hurt”. It’s like we take that “safety first” that we learned in kindergarten when it came to crossing the street and not running with scissors and we make it our mantra. As if we would rather not take that chance on something wonderful because we might get hurt… of COURSE we are going to get hurt! That’s what vulnerability does BUT it’s not the end-all, be-all. It’s not the definition. It’s PART of life. (I will now stop before I get really worked up – lol)

      Liked by 1 person

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Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

living document

a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind

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