| THE CLIFF Every vein trembled. She held her hands and clenched her fists, but still they shook. She couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop, no matter how she tried. Her lungs filled with the crisp air flying out over the sea. Her heart pounded with every crash of the waves below. And she felt the pull of the tide – unrolling itself in the bright, white moonlight, tugging at her stomach. Her foot slipped off the edge of the cliff as she dared to lean too far. The wind pushed against her chest to keep her from falling. But she was willing to jump. He, though, wouldn't let her – he kept her anchored to the ground. But he – was nowhere in sight. The rocks below revealed no silhouette. She had braved the cold every night, sneaking out earlier each time hoping to see him arrive. Discover from which direction he came, and somehow follow him back… So, in the darkness, alone under the moon, on the edge of an eroding world she waited. The wind unfurled the folds of her scarlet dress and she closed her eyes against the sting - trusting him and willing herself. She could feel the world turn over. When she opened her eyes he was there, the gust of wind blurring him against the black sky. How old was he? She couldn't tell. At first she thought 40, then younger, maybe 30, yet tonight perhaps as young as 20. His long black cloak dragged in the water, beating against the rocks, slowing her heart and warming her blood. Her fears became distant nightmares, dreams no longer remembered. He looked up to where she stood and lured her, drawing her again to the edge of the cliff, vertigo fighting to bring her down on the rocks. But then the waves stood still, the wind died, and her breath caught in her chest. She couldn't move. Yet from down on the rocks she felt his embrace, his warmth, his love, his heart beating against hers. She was safer than she'd ever been. All the blood drained from her body and ran down to him like veins on the cliff side. She let the color bleed from her dress, because his kiss gave her life, reason for the morning, and refuge from the vultures that now slept so soundly in her village. She lay down on the frozen grass as the darkness wore away beneath her. Another dawn she would have to endure, another day of trepidation, before the beautiful night. Collaborations |
| copyright Lisa Stock 2004 |