High Wire (With A Nod to George W. S. Trow)

Old George knew a thing or two

and always said, as I recall,
“The higher the wire, the harder the fall.”

Time was, we could raise

a little dream to distant heights
and find some space above the lights
where it could grow and act like a promise
to those we left below
and never once did we believe
that the people who bet on us
would pull the net on us,
or that they'd ever leave.

Today a lot of us fall and no one sees
There are no nets: we fall invisibly.
We crash to whatever ground meets us
and wait silently but no crowd greets us,
to lend a hand, to provide some aid
until it dawns on us, bruised and numb
there is no help, that help will never come.

And when we rise again, if we ever do,

a bit more crushed, a bit more broken,
and we think the bruises will be invisible, too,
so the pain we end up living through
remains unspoken;

"We came so close, we were at the brink"

That's a lot of us now — More than you think.

Come, Old Friend, to Parts Unknown 
Where a Table Is Set and No Reservations Are Required

Nails can drive through flesh
opening wounds
not even gods can heal
and there are demons fixed
neither fortune nor fame can budge
and flaws too numerous to mention
but never too numerous to judge.