Frailty Ross Thompson

Frailty

i.m.

How it must have felt for you, then and every day, hanging from a wire so thin it made your head swim to contemplate this cruel nature of quavering.

What bravery it took to shoulder such frailty: the devil who kept step on this precarious stave, who diverted your path with nefarious lies and weighed heavily upon your plundered frame.

From the gate, you found your way paved with black poppies and bitter water: the badlands where temptation staked a claim for your good name and spared you no grace.

That awful truth scratched into the clay of your heart: few of us know just how close to the edge we are.

Ross Thompson