Falling

It appeared overnight, beyond the thick of woods.
A hole, long, narrow, like a grin, stretched a metre
through the dirt. I fed it sticks, rocks, bigger rocks,
to no response of sound. I tied a torch to string,
fished for understanding, lowered the slow spin of light
to brighten only stone, moss, a millipede,
concluding this to be just a mouth, toothless, syllable-ridden
with echoes of my chants and songs from childhood.

You were intrusive, persistent, throbbing my frontal lobe;
certain, persuasive, that I wanted to chance the depth,
tempt the darkness, have the hole swallow me
in my entirety and leave this land, the things I knew,
the people I loved. It would be easy, without valediction.
I could simply plunge, prepared: knees bent for a landing,
breath held for a possible underground lake,
and to be otherwise content with an eternal falling.

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2 thoughts on “Falling

  1. wow, there is so much here to chew on (no pun intended). I was just talking with someone yesterday (okay it was my therapist) about that impulse for, the draw to, in your words, the “eternal falling” even it means leaving behind “loved ones.” Yet this is poem achieves so well that quality of portions feeding back into what proceeded it, altering what proceed it, like the reading of a tarot spread.

    what sticks with me the most, for some reason (i’ll probably be pondering all today why) is the “echoes of my chants…from childhood” – maybe something to do with not only being little myth makers before the linear is shoved onto us, there is also a bit of conjurerer in us in those early days, too. But why the impulse to conjure? when we are so easily frightened by monsters under the bed.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for the kind words. I wanted to explore a struggle for mental health in this way and I am glad it ticked some boxes for you. The chant line was on something I knew I would do if I found a huge hole in the ground – to sing for an echo, to sound younger years at it, but I think you’re right in the conjuring idea. Not sure why the impulse is there, only that we often don’t think much of it at the time!

      Liked by 1 person

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