Poetry | Skyscrapers
Words by Jemima Meyer. Image by Niamh Walsh-Vorster
each night in bed my hands clench
the edge of grey skyscrapers
my fingers cramp &
disappear in the
depths I scream return to
mid-air wait while autumn leaves
drop underneath the sight of city lights
highlight buildings I’ll visit next time I hang
& cringe on repeat till morning I land
on our kitchen chair to hear
my dad say God
is warning me
that my homeless
soul might sink to the depths
of the abyss if I don’t pick a room
in his house or at least keep reaching
against the gravity that seems too heavy
even for the Almighty if I don’t keep clinging
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with shoulders that have always been too weak
I shrug off the wings he stitched to my body
from birth his battle cries have frightened
fallen flesh that would rather cling
to anything but a cloud of hope
rather fall again just to hang
& eventually fall
asleep
Jemima Meyer (1997-) is a dietitian at the South African Military Health Service. She makes sense of life by writing poetry and composing songs. Her poems have been published in New Contrast, Ons Klyntji, Kalahari Review, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter at @jemimameyer and SoundCloud at /jemimameyer.
