Here I sit in the dark again. Combining forms of blackness overwhelm me, swallow me.
Like fog so thick that I cannot move nor breathe is this shade of death. It is our dark reality.
We ride through the storm in the arms of the stork only to be carried away by maggots.
We are taught to be clean of dirt. For maybe, it is the fear of the dirt that we descent back into that keeps us clean.
I do not feel clean at this moment. Yet, I have no desire to join in the mud.
So here it is that I sit. Alone, and out of reach from the matches…they would only burn my fingers.
Our skins are shades of the earth just as death is the dark shade of life. So I shade my eyes and pray for another day without dirt.