Am I The Chosen?

BY ATIKA ANGGRAINI

So confusing, isn’t it?

This or That..?

Here or There..?

Walking or running..?

Searching or waiting..?

So Strange, isn’t it?

Strange it is to me

Strange as a captive held in a foreign country

Like the shore and gazing out on the level sea

Like a bird from the far north blown to my party

It a fear of heights, a horror of the deep;

But it isn’t the unfathomable fall

That makes me giddy, makes my stomach lurch,

It’s that the ledge itself invents the leap

You see?

The nothing rising underfoot

Yes, I am the chosen.