Analysis of Climbing Out

As I was falling,
I reached out for familiar branches,
Branches once so strong and supportive.
When my hand touched one
I could not grasp the smooth worn surface.
I reached for another.
The dead wood gave way to my weight.
Another only broke my skin
with sharp barbs.
Some branches slowed my descent
but couldn't stop the plunging.
I reached for new growth.
Untested limbs.
In my desperation I grabbed.
Smaller, but more supple in its newness.
Bending to my weight, but supporting me.
Following its growth,
I learned a new way out.
Thank God that branch was there.
Reaching out to me as I reached out to it.