Have I then reached the edge of my foe?
The darkness that shimmered tauntingly,
That covered the path,
That closed in like balls of cotton,
Til’ sound, and sense, and feelings were muffled,
And I thought I was going the distance the wrong way.
Who would’ve known with clay in my eyes and
Mounds of weight pressing down on all sides
That I was fine?
Who would’ve known that the right way
Was the wrong turn?
And now that I have begun to dig myself out,
I find the clouds are deeper and thicker than I thought,
And my toes that now stand at the precipice
Are clutching so tight, I can barely breathe
out.
But now, at the pinnacle of my own grave,
I know I have to let go,
And dig
And dig
And dig
out, and above, and away from the plateau
Til’ there is nothing left to hold,
But blue sky.
Karen K.L. Espaniola April 1, 2013
