My Near Death

Devoid of fear

Nestled pools of moss coated rocks

Years rubbed clean

Arms working

Trust in balance

The unexpected rush carries me

Gripping tight

I hang on smooth curves

Wet, cold, numb,

Grip loosens, heart pounding

Too far, too rough

Sharp rocky pools await my crushing mass

An unrecognized hand

And a struggle to safety

A friend?  A comrade?  An acquaintance at least?

I wholly respect

The kindness of strangers