It’s because I feel that something needs to be said that these words go down. Something, but I’m not sure what.
I catch faint glimpses of it now and then, in the quiet times, where it has clawed its way up to the top of this stagnant well – and then it’s gone again, leaving me with only the essence, only a broken line or faint idea. I reach out to grasp it, help it into the light, but I am no help. It still falls back down and leaves me up here, empty and alone, waiting by the edge to help again.
Or maybe I am the one bloodying my fingers, tearing out nails, clawing my way, try after try, to the top.
Most likely I am both the climber & the one waiting, trying to put myself together again.