The Hole

You hear your breath in the dark,
raspy, thin, hungry for air,
for light, a determined breath
too long in this black hole,
this place without possibility
in it’s cycle
of brief light and long empty nights.

You are broken. You know this.
You feel it deep inside,
in those places no one can see,
like ribs, cracked and eternally aching
when the weather turns angry.
And even healed, you are not whole
in the same way.

Surrender is easy, and some days
it is all you desire,
but somehow, it is not in you.
You reach.
You climb.
You hurt
and continue towards the light
that though faint,
you know is there.

About this poem. 

On my desk is a small brass plaque with a quote from Churchhill: “Never, Never, Never Quit.”   I bought it about 9 years ago, when things were going to hell in my life. Seriously, some days that little plaque is all that keeps me going. But I’ll be damned if I will surrender.

I took the picture in Salem, Va, a few weeks ago.

Tom