the balancing act, or, what it is to write

it was when i was younger
and suicidal
that the words dove
out from the edge
or i pushed them over
and stood there
looking down into
the abyss
as it slowly filled up

and now at some sense of peace
the words are slower
planting themselves
just beneath the skin
so that when footing
slips
they extend the stronger finger
already there to catch what is
always reaching out

(the hand extended, to convey)