The Rope Bridge Poem by bryan wallace

There you are - there you stand
One hundred feet above rocks and ocean bed.
Held together with worn hempish rope -
A narrow twenty inch wooden tread, supported
Only by two by three inch wooden slats.

The December sea-winds shakes you. You tremble
Like rippling ears of ripe barley in an August breeze.
Playing melodic tunes as the wind whistles
Through your ropes, cables and wooden stays.

You fill me with dread,
One hundred feet above the ocean bed -
One hundred feet above certain death.
As some who fears heights, someone who panics
Standing on a chair, or walking on thick carpet -
The thought of walking
Your narrow thread-supported wooden plank
Is enough to have me reaching
For the whiskey and the valium -
Perhaps I need a tranquilisor dart!

Deep yogic breaths to calm
My jingle-jangling nerves
To euthanise the butterflies in my stomach.
I move one foot forward -
Then the other - one step - one yard travelled,
Only another nineteen yards to go!

Trudge slowly onwards, death mask on my face
Daren't look down - don't want to
Staring straight ahead with each slow step.
I've made it - that wasn't so hard!

Another of life's phobias over-come.
Each step across a swaying rope bridge
Another step - another yard -
Travelled along the highway of self-improvement.