Reaching

My two hands reach for something
strong and stable,
not something that meanders, or is here,
then goes.

What I need most of all is a hand
that can pull me up
from this ledge of fear where I stand

here where my toes
are pressed to the edge of abyss
with the toes of others.

My fellows embody my fear;
such that our fear
is part of the air that we breathe;
and I know this fear
roots in distrust of each other.

It is we who have dug this abyss,
nonetheless, is deep,
so deep there is none among us
who does not need help.

Like them, we are all like me.