Standing on the midpoint between two horizons
I do not know which way to run.
Do I catch the hand of lightness
and let it lift me buoyant into freedom and fresh air,
leaving the smoke of golden flames far below and forgotten,
or take the hands of those left behind
And lose my upward momentum as I share it with them,
pulling them towards me and myself therefore back down?
Caught between myself and my hopeless city,
I stand weeping and frozen where I stand
till my body is a solid heavy pillar
of salty tears.
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