The Staircase

by zowie mills - Not entered

Down a darkening, spiraling stair I descend,
with trepidation I feel for the next step,
There it is- not so bad.
I can feel it, soft and cold, under an unsure foot.

There is an Up, I just can't turn to see it.
Its too tight in this restricted place.
I can barely breathe, but breath has
less meaning as I descend.

Sleep and food are not needed here. 
Time slows and nearly stops. 
Life occurs in fragmented slices,
each one a life in itself.

Where does it lead? 
Will there be a place to turn back Up?
I listen quietly for a voice to lead me back.
and none I hear. None I hear.

There is still time for now.
Some time yes. 
As I get farther from the voice,
I draw more into the dank moist depths.

It beckons. It offers. 
I shake, sometimes cry.
"You'll get through it!"
I recall those words now.

I really don't WANT to "get through it".
I'd rather get past it. 
Back to light, where children laugh, 
& lovers smile. 

But what I want & what it offers 
are in opposition. Both pull, but
the latter stronger. Stronger than I.
Stronger than I alone.
one I hear. None I hear.

Reason for writing:

    Seperation from my SO    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1995-10-06 09:05:28
Last updated: 2021-02-26 11:13:38
Poem ID: 27870

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