She held on to the fragile branch with a death's grip as the roaring water threatened to drag her away.

She gasped, the bubbling swirls entering her mouth.

There was no hope left inside but she clung to life with a desperate stance.

Upon a branch so fragile and thin, with a grip so tight, afraid to begin.

Her heart was a storm, tumultuous and wild, tossed by fears, by dreams defiled.

Yet there she hung, in the still of night, clutching hope with all her might.

Each whispering breeze, a daunting threat, yet she clung on, her soul beset.

Through the darkness, she fought the pain, her resolve, a beacon, in the rain.

With trembling hands and weary eyes, she held on tight, beneath the skies.

For in that moment, she found her strength, amidst the chaos, she found her length.

Though the branch may bend, and fears may rise, she vowed to endure, beneath the skies.

For in her grip, a fierce resolve, to hold on tight, and to evolve.

So let the winds rage, and the storms assail, she’ll cling to hope, she'll not derail.

For in her grasp, a fragile branch, lies the power of resilience, in her staunch stance.

@karen_chambers
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