trying to find the air,
my whole body
stinging with scrapes
and scratches and tears.
NO ONE
I braid my hair again.
Once more I find the footholds,
going faster,
keeping my body close to the wall
to save my energy,
using my legs more than my arms.
One step at a time, Eleanor.
Soon, I’m ten feet above the ground.
Thunder booms loud enough to rattle
my teeth, my insides, my fingers.
They tremble as I look down
for a new foothold.
My hair breaks free,
falls in my face,
my stomach lurching
from both seeing
and then not being able to see.
My body is shaking,
my breaths coming too fast and hard.
I might vomit.
This was a mistake, a horrible mistake.
What was I thinking?
I can’t do this.
I need to get back down.
Pushing my hair behind my ears,
I look for a way down,
even though I know
there is none.
I slipped yesterday
after the flood because
no one climbs down.
YOU CAN
I’m shivering and sweating,
losing all the water
I’ve drunk, and worse,
my fingers will get slippery.
A flash of light, and I wait
for the boom to rattle me
right off this wall.
You can do it, Eleanor.
I’m going to fall!
Self-efficacy, Eleanor.
Stop telling yourself you can’t succeed.
The boom comes and goes
but doesn’t knock me from the rock.
I look up and find a handhold.
One step at a time.
A few more movements,
and I’m finally able to reach one arm up,
grip the edge of the cave
as the rock beneath my foot
breaks away,
plummets
to the canyon floor.
My body slams
against the rough wall,
all breath
leaving my body
in a terrified whimper.
I dangle.
Are you likely to die in this situation?
Yes.
CAVE
I kick and flail
and stub toes
and tear toenails
and shred heels,
trying desperately
to hang on
to the wall.
Breathe, Eleanor.
You’re almost there.
I peer through my hair
for a foothold,
my arms shaking
to hold my full weight.
I find one.
I settle my bare foot firmly
and pull myself up,
grunting,
growling,
teeth grinding
with the effort.
I crawl the few feet
across the small cave
and lean back against
a bumpy wall of stone,
waiting for my heart
and breathing to calm,
grateful I mostly used my legs
for the climb instead of my arms.
They wouldn’t have held otherwise.
I toss my rope and boots on the floor.
It’s cool in here, but the icy canyon winds
won’t freeze my shredded skin,
and raging floodwaters can’t reach me.
I hope they can’t reach Dad, either,
wherever he is.
ANGER
Watch your anger cues:
heart racing, body shaking,
breath out of control.
RAGE
My head topples forward,
and my hair once more
falls in my face.
I breathe so hard that my hair
rises and falls,
rises and falls,
with my hyperventilating.
I pull the razor-sharp chunk of shale
from my pocket.
Make sure you’re being kind to yourself, Eleanor,
no matter how angry you feel.
I press one finger
to the edge until it stings
before grasping several long strands.
I rub the sharp stone against my hair
until it tears apart,
gripping the sharp shale
with so much force
that it cuts into my hands
and blood drips
onto the floor of the cave.
Make sure you’re being kind to your body.
I work at
hacking,
tearing,
ripping,
sawing
my hair out,
piece by piece.
Never, ever harm yourself.
It takes forever with the rock.
It tears the roots out of my scalp,
leaving my hair jagged.
Pay attention to your anger cues.
But I won’t leave a single piece of hair
that can fall in my face
ever again.
What can you do to manage that anger?
My teeth clench and my body vibrates
and my heart races with rage as I
hack,
tear,
rip,
saw
my hair out.
Relax your body.
When I’m done, I feel the cave floor
covered in my hair, and my hands
covered in blood, and my head
covered in an uneven, torn
mop of only
After hair.
Remember your deep breathing.
My rage overflows
as I throw the brittle chunk of slate
against the cave wall,
and it shatters into pieces.
SCREAMING
And I scream
and scream
and scream.
And my screams
fill
the cave, and they
spill
over the side, blending into the
trill
of the red-spotted toads and into the
shrill
of the cold, windy canyon,
and the winds carry
my screams away.
I’m screaming out
the last of my water,
but I can’t stop.
I scream until my chapped lips
are stretched so thin
the cracks open and bleed
into my mouth.
I scream until my voice
crackles and breaks and then is gone.
I reach out and swipe the hair
away from my body,
scatter the hair
across the cave floor,
push it frantically over the side.
When lightning flashes, I see
my bloodied hands have left
dark streaks across the stone.
The hair slides over the edge
of the cave into the canyon
to be carried away by the winds
along with my screams.
GONE
Collapsing against the wall of the cave,
I drop my face into my bloodied hands.
My energy is
gone.
My voice is
gone.
My Before hair is
gone,
along with all of my Before.
FEELING
Being alive means
sorrow, joy, pain, love, anger.
Feeling all the things.
NUMB
I pull my legs up to my chest