The Unfallen Funambulist

By Abdul Aleem Jaseer

Screams and laughter

resound the halls of judgment,

of the many souls after,

they've fallen

contentto damnation or grace,

one, absolument.

And here I stand, the unlucky ace,

walking the tightrope between both,

tired legs, an ashen face,

Providence, why doth,

this body sway, yet not to fell,

what left thee with wrath so hot?

To fall to hell,

or to rise to heaven?

And neither comes — a despondent yell:

I strayed from the sins seven,

within limit's desire,

yet You hang me here still, as chevon?

To roast in hell's fire,

chilled in heaven's wine,

yet taste of neither — only aspire.

This unanswered question of mine,

resounds this solemn chamber,

as do the others, ever confined.

Thy silence left me ever somber,

Thee, who promised to benevolence,

hast left me on this bridge, to wander.

I then lose all of my sense,

to turn listless as a stray,

as I’m reminded of my penance.

So I bend, my knees fray,

In the shadow of her flame, I silently pray.

By Abdul Aleem Jaseer