They strung a wire between two skies,
Said, Look how steady. Look how high.
They placed the pole in my hands,
And smiled as if I’d always stand.
They love to say I never sway.
That I was always built this careful way.
A practiced foot, a lifted chin,
As though the wind won’t press my skin.
If I wasn’t who they said I was,
Would they still gather just because?
The line was lower once, I think.
Or maybe I was less afraid to blink.
For every step feels more defined,
A thinner thread, a sharper line.
But now each step is drawn in chalk,
A measured shift, a mindful walk.
The wire hums a little loud,
A trembling string above a crowd.
They clap before I take a stride.
They trust the air to hold my side.
They speak as though the end is clear,
As though the fall is nowhere near.
If I wasn’t who they said I was,
Would the wind feel stronger than it does?
The wire hums.
It pulls.
It thins.
A silver, tightening violin.
I’ve done so well.
I’ve never slipped.
I’ve never let my balance tip.
They say the other side’s in sight,
Just one more stretch, just one more night.
The wire is taut. The air is thin.
The noise below seeps slowly in.
If I wasn’t who they said I was,
Would I still climb because they trust I will?
The thread feels narrower than before,
A breath-
A shift-
A step-
One more.
And hope the wire is steady still,
And I can be who they think I will.
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