Member-only story
Through Falling Skies
A poem
The dust falls
upon my resting body
while you renovate upstairs with new dirt,
new purpose,
my fears silently amplified
deep in the hole I’ve dug again.
I remember asking once
if you’d be there to bury me.
After blushing, you said nothing
and I held the confusion close
to my freezing chest.
Thudding drum loops spur me on,
the woozy wheezing of worn out bodies
begging to be carried
the next few steps.
I take a knee to tell them that I just don’t have the strength.
The cranes dip low lately
and they steal the land my feet thirst for.
Unquenched, they leave the Earth behind
and climb stretching stairs towards a peaceful existence
the sky open,
a gorgeous, gently blinding white
inexplicable but comforting
somewhere above, obscured, distant but
warm
