The Swamp

April 3, 2009
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Running away
Dark, green, brown, grey, black,
The mud comes up to my knees, sucking me down, but I don’t care,
Fear the alligator,
A small turtle rests, nervously rests on a rock,
This place covered by over-hanging trees, with scaly bark and snakes
Spanish moss tangled in my hair, and the chilled breeze like a cold, dead hand,
Doesn’t bother me at all. I am so dead to everything.
Memories of bright life and glory and beauty are with me
And pull me down more than mud or quicksand ever could.
Those faces, like pictures in an abandoned mansion on a hill, hang inside me,
But here, here there are no humans,
I fear not, naught.
Beauty is gone, glory is gone, comfort is gone, happiness is gone, all is gone but me and my
Of what used to be. Pain aches inside, but I’ve always been a tolerant person
Now I wonder if I really am a person,
Darkness is too overwhelming
I slip under the muddy water, and for a moment, I feel…
Something, like shock, realization, a shiver that wakes me up from a deep slumber.
I want to give up, the water tries to smother my breathing, the rocks trap me,
A shadow of something big comes close,
Then I see light from above, “The sun came out,” I think
Air fills my lungs as strong arms reach around me
I see your face, and I can barely believe the joy that fills my weak body, I feel warmth, though I shiver.
I see you wet and dripping, I realize the effort you have made
This moment I see real beauty through your face, your love, your gentle, soothing tough. You are sun.

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