Crash by Jones Ayuwo

I twist and turn, I grasp and grab.
Is there any foothold?
Any crevice or jutting edge
That my fingers may find lodgings?
The wind zips past me in cold blasts,
Sucking along what lil’ air my nostrils find.
I open my mouth to yell; …nothing.
Despite the wind’s fury and howling,
I feel perspiration break out on my face.
That is the cold sweat of fear.
The knowledge that all that I have ever done;
The good, the bad, and the, well, not so good
 All boil down to this moment.
The space between the top of the ledge and the bottom.
Time fades away and loses import.
My life flashes before my eyes like distorted parts of many
movies,
Not the sweet memories of Christmas,
Nor the sweet smell of beans and plantains
Wafting in from the kitchen…
No.
It’s the thought of all that I could have done,
The memories of all the things that I did wrong
And all the things I could and should have done right.
The things I did not do.
And as the bottom draws nearer,
And the end sweeps up with that feeling of inevitability,
I feel only one taste in my mouth;
Regret.
And then …nothingness………
Thud!