I know no word,
no word, for this feeling--
a bit lost
a bit sad
a bit hopeful
as if you see the light at the end of the tunnel,
but it's the sky, and you're falling into a well.
And when you land its cold, deep,
but you can swim.
(At least it isn't raining.)
And you realize you can just barely grip the sides,
to pull yourself up, out of the water.
So you begin, hand over hand, pulling your own weight up, towards that light.
And even at night, its brighter above.
And sometimes you slip, caught on algae (and lichens alike) falling back to the cold below.
But slowly, slowly, you pull yourself up,
and once on solid ground you begin to walk
towards the rising sun.
"So you begin, hand over hand, pulling your own weight up, towards that light.
ReplyDeleteAnd even at night, its brighter above.
And sometimes you slip, caught on algae (and lichens alike)"
It's fantastic how the long "i" travels here.
This a wonderful concept. You are the queen of imagery ;)
ReplyDeletethank you thank you!
ReplyDeleteI almost laugh. "at least it isn't raining". Sometimes you are soaking wet, and yet one more tear, one more drop of rain, and it will be beyond enduring.
ReplyDeleteVery good. It's always nice to run into a fellow writer. Visit me at beneaththeelmtree.blogspot.com.
ReplyDeleteimmediately I loved your poem. Once you added slipping on Algae I nearly lost it and had to comment. THIS IS REAL> THANK YOU>
ReplyDeleteTHank you!! I will follow you, Your words Are inspiring.