Julie Falls

By Pretty Alice

Beautiful how water falls, but heart wrenching
when she falls
It is in my nature to be her net
torn, ripped by the velocity of her
inconsolable unavoidable inevitable plummet.

I envision that she could fall so deep that through the Earth she would rise  on the other side.  On top like a beatiful weed flower, strong, determined
that pushes up through the layers of rock, and dirt
encased in  black asphalt.

There is no tangible to why I am connected to a particular thing about her.

Maybe it is her relentless self torture, pain
that I want to heal.
Foolish me to love my mother I feel in her.
Vulnerable always pulls me in, then clinches me in my illusion
an inescapable vice.

If I have a problem
it is empathy
 as I look to her from where I am now and although I cannot live in her world
 it ensures
 I am not a fool
except for Julie
when she falls
because I fall too.

But I hold on from my own need,
a voice pursues in the back of my minds' eye
that every eventual encounter
will still be tarnished by the feelings of Julie
when she is falling.