Cliff

Sometimes,
I see myself on a cliff,
tall,
next to the sea,
on a stormy day.
I’m on the edge,
wondering,
Whether to take a step off the cliff.

The strong wind howls
like a pack of wolves
calling me to the roaring sea,
I could imagine my body
taken by the violent hands of the sea
and smashed against the rocky wall of the cliff
like a lifeless piece of a rug.
But that is not the reason for my hesitation.

That is not.
It is the faint sound I hear between the howls,
The faint sound of a woman
begging me to go back.
It is that dim yellow light of a ship
on the far horizon
that sales to some blessed paradise,
some El Dorado of happiness.
It is the light and sound of hope
barely clings to the edge of my mind.

But it’s strange.
Sometimes I wish,
that it’ll go away.
That light and sound will finally fade,
so that I can die in peace.