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Last Leap by Lelia Thomas

Her hands stretched forward and palms faced the sea
As striking auburn strands and mist flew upon the lea.

Her linen dress billowed like ship sails
As she said her prayers and thought of palms pierced with nails–

Upon this moor cliff, cracked and dark,
A girl’s slender figure, outstretched, pale and stark.

And she took a breath, sucking in cool air,
And then bit her lip, hardened her stare;

To take the step, a leap into the grave
As she held a rosary, now wishing to be saved.

The girl flailed downward, her linens clapping in protest
Of the rocks below where lay the Final Rest.

Saltwater filled her lungs and rocks did snap her spine,
As from life into death she abruptly crossed the line.

Such was it that she did not hear the groaning wood of ships come to shore
Or the shouts of young men come home from the shadows of war.

Nor did she see from the ship a sailor who did not tarry,
Who ran into town, laughing and crying, “Where is my dearest Mary?”

Written in 2005. We cannot predict all of the future, especially when it comes to love.