Grave Chrysalis


bordering on the ineffectual.


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.



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.


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

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