The Grave Digger....

It was yesterday
Wasn’t it?
The blisters are still there.
Just like the pain
Mud marked footsteps
That trailed me to my bed
Reminiscent of another evening
Spent and exhausted

I have lain with the shovel,
And yet, here I am!
This very morning
I had hoped to awake
To blissful darkness.
I find myself drawing
The curtains instead.
 
So I curse the windows
So I blame the light
And I shade my eyes
And I look up at the sky,
To find the same bloody oaf
hanging from the sky
shining bright...

Oh no! Not again…
I've spent hours
muddying my existence
my soul baking in the heat
smouldering in this kiln
like bricks of clay
while the light prickled my eyes.
threatening me with the sunrise,
 
And my nights but begin,
with promises of fulfillment,
yet the dawn  leaves me
with nothing to say,
Yesterday the morning was bloody,
Why shall it be any better today?
Graves are what I’ve been digging
And everyday...

 All my evenings but spent
burying the sun
All my mornings spent
Despairing at its resurrection.
Why does it find so hard to stay put?
Why do I have to suffer?
This insolent fool,
Ninety three million miles beyond,
And all bright and shining,
While I scrape my corners,
To find some light,
To call my own,
 
Yet finding none….
cherrytaught cherrytaught
26-30, M
Nov 28, 2012