The Skinny Branches

In the small hours
Long before daybreak,
I awaken to find myself

Perched precariously
Out on the skinny branches.

Insecurity breathes in my ear
Like a jealous lover.
Fear thrashes my tree
With invisible fury.

I am left shaken,
Clutching desperately
To these thinly disguised
Illusions of security.

This gorgeous new growth
Is not yet mature enough
To contain the chaos
of my confusion,

The irrational terror 
Of my uncertainty.

As I am buffeted to and fro
By the fickle winds
Of my own hubris,

I am forced to confront
The vulnerability of
My precarious position.

I am too heavy for these
Slender supports.
My grief is much too fearsome
For these fragile fingers

Destined to become mighty limbs,
Yet now too far from the roots
Which sustain them

To bear my solitary burdens.

And they are all I have,
My skinny branches,
In these cold, dark hours

Before the dawn.

Scott DuRoff  3/2015