If the boat tipped
in white water,
I learned to hold on
to my paddle.
If my feet slipped
while climbing the wall,
I learned to hang on
to the rope.
I learned to cling
to the covers
when sleeping
with a restless lover.
And lost in the cliffs
as the sun went down
I learned to hold on
to instinct and hope.
All my life, I have learned
to hold on. To cradle
my children when they cry.
To grab the wheel when
the car veers on ice.