Cliffs Of Acapulco Poem by Alfred Ramos

At this moment I am closer to God than anyone
The barefoot climb up the sharp rocks I liken to
His climb up Calvary
I do this for a living, knowing I may die doing it
Almost at the top I have my rest, my prayer with Him
If he has time to listen
I pray not for salvation or strength
Those things I should already possess
I kneel with respect and speak from within
I ask only for assurance that I am properly leading the
Life he has given me
I then continue the daily dredged routine struggle
Naked to the wind and to the sun
Today the sun scorches and the wind cuts me
Like a hot knife into butter
The tourista pays for days like this
To take home with him our golden brown skin
I prefer a cooler day with a gentle breeze
That runs in and kisses you
But today the tourista wins
His American dollar slips from his hand to mine
At the top.........at the edge
I look out and see nothing
I ask myself, 'Am I doing the right thing? '
I always seem to answer yes, at least for the last 19 years
I watch the tide crash in
Lunge and reach for the rocks with angry claws
Then smooth as silk as the tide recedes, it soothes
The rocks it had just tormented
There is no time for preparations
My body senses when it’s time to go
Then quickly as if someone has released the latch of a Jack-in the Box
I spring into a swan dive, into white darkness
Alone, afraid, in the hands of gravity
I seem to want to rush to meet the charging tide
My instincts and reflexes work in unison
My clenched fist breaks the water
Leading me into a cool refreshing oasis
Like the beer commercials on T.V.
I can almost feel the rumble vibration of the applause
It feels good, it pays well and I have survived to try again