Ana Spehar

Love Poetry Ana Spehar

Bungee Jumping

She looks at me curiously, and asks, are you in love with me?

And I remember bungee jumping once, off a cerulean bridge stretched over a canyon ridge in West Coast Canada. The view was sublime – endless trees broken only by the skyline –and I knew there’d be so few times I’d drop from a bridge and survive.

So, I straightened my back, held my head high, and aimed for the thin line of the horizon, breathing deep, bended knees, diving forward fearlessly.

I was never afraid of heights until that morning; the rope pulled me back, but I never forgot that feeling of falling. I was hanging to life by a thread, long, elastic, dangling over a careless canyon. It could end so stupidly – just a loose thread, just a fall from a tread on my shoelace.

When scared, I often dip my head, hide my face, look down at my shoes interlaced, see my toes itch over the edge of some unseen ravine, feel a slight bend in the back of my knees – my body reminding me that I know the feeling of falling.

So I take the same stance, back straight, head high, and I look into her eyes as though they are the skyline. I take a deep breath, and I say, yes.

Ceri Savage