Threatened

You were placed here purposefully:
Downcast eyes would count the windows,
Calculating morbid options.
Crushed within or without? Matters
Little to your near-dead readers.

Nineteen floors below, the pavement's
Cold enough for skin to fasten;
I acknowledge yet look over --
Cream brick walls, white rooftops bask in
January afternoon glow.

Swollen, confident the westward-
Sloping sun, in acquiescence,
Yields the lakeside sky, the Gibbous
Moon thumps its chest to be strung up
Over such a cloudless blue. You,

Sadly, turn your shoulders inward;
You admonish without knowing
What I know now, what He told me:
"See differently with the good news!"
My heart-lining healed completely.

Someone really down and out--not
Only pointed that direction--
You might peddle your "protection"
There, but nothing truly threatens
My heart but the fear of beating.