Hiding;
bordering on the ineffectual.
Lying
to myself again.
Telling myself that I’m okay;
never better.
For real,
I’m barely holding on.
Have been for a little while.
Digging down here
for something safe,
encountering only buried bodies.
I can still see you standing there,
eyes so full of faith,
when I told you I would try;
I didn’t want it to be this way.
You’re there in the big outside,
still exposed and bent with toil.
I’m tunneling out a future grave,
seeking solace in the soil.
I try reaching out to you,
but I’m
too deep, now.
I’ve gone
as deep as I can,
and I’m
only now
coming back out.
Slowly,
out of the darkness,
out of the dirt,
to find the Sun.
Burrowed deep
and shed my character.
Buried bones
and stripped my skin.
Interred myself
to find some favor,
and learned the dead
can live again.
From below,
got myself all,
new and resurrected.
Now,
let me stand
and lend a hand.
I am sorry
that I keep having to die
to be useful.
I hope you understand.
HG – 2019
