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oblivion
August 11, 2014
why is it
that in the face
of the gaping chasm
end of the tunnel
open-casket burial
wooden-cross crucifixion
in the face of the death
that awaits us all
I grapple?
why am I sitting
in wooden chairs
straight back
smiling lips
vying to control
the void,
to get an upper hand
in the battle
I am fighting
behind my ribs.
I do not pray.
I am not
vulnerable.
I refuse to get down
on my knees
and beg.
instead,
I sit
straight back
smiling lips
I sit
until I fall.
© Adrianna S., Henderson, NV
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This article has 2 comments.
I really enjoyed this poem. For me, it is an athiest coping with their own oblivion. I truly related to these feelings. This poem makes me think of section 6 of Walt Whitman's A Song of Myself, in which he talks about how everyone's life is worthwhile. If you haven't read it, I encourage you too! It always makes me feel better.
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