Poems by
Miguel JUMP I stand here atop the highest building in my dark city. Wind seeping cold into my skin, eyes running, rivers fed by thoughts of discontent. I hear them. Voices of mischief. Spoken by the will of misguided go-getters: take, steal, destroy, leave waste and desolation in your wake. Burn all bridges, leave no room for retreat, give no apologies, pay no penance, condemn all empathy. Only time 4 the fight, the hustle, to shake trees and play in traffic— but I’m weary, hurt, and wounded. My arms are heavy. My thighs burn. My feet are bleeding, hands scarred with the penalty of mistake, back strained from my load. But here I stand, full of myself, engulfed by my resolve— raging, pushing against defeat. Ready to climb the next building, complete the next challenge. But a quandary persists in my mind: How do I get back down without going back? Jump. 32
Situations 16
