Poem: Wrong Step

blackhole

 

 

 

 

 

 

As if you slide down the hole,

brown around you,

then black and blacker still,

the dirt no longer on your face,

the rocks no longer bumping your forearms,

the roots no longer hitting your hands,

it dawns on you, you aren’t in control.

Land on your feet or face,

it won’t matter if the ground is firm or soft,

no weight is too heavy,

no guilt is too much down there,

besides no one will hear your cries.

As if this predicament can only gain power,

your praying won’t be enough,

the next step will be clear,

you must keep falling deeper down into the pit,

this thing you created to see where it ends.

You might not get enough oxygen,

your lungs fearful and uncertain,

as you took the wrong step from the beginning,

with not enough change throughout,

and stubborn still like the heaviness you can’t escape,

you remain stuck and alone.

2020pc

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