TAKE A BREATHER

Fallen deep into the depths of the pit,
I lay sprawled out on all fours,
Helpless like a naïve deer,
Caught in the cross arrows
Of Problem’s cocked rifle.

I wander out in the stinging cold
To escape the darkness into the night.
My eyes have become well acquainted
With the blackness around me.
The only light I ever see is the flick of
Grass rolled paper in my hand.

I clutch onto it, as if it is all I have.
With every exhale, I watch the
Puffing clouds twirl above my head.
Pensively, I look in. “What do they say?”
They come in magnificent shapes,
Unlike anything I have ever seen.
And then they fade away.

Inhale, exhale.

They resurface, just as wonderful
As their ancestors were.
It seems my only constant is the
Intangible, fading wisps of my breath.
But then I see them, flying upwards,
Racing to the sky, and then they’re gone.

Inhale, exhale.

They come back, this time
More eager than the last.
I can finally see: they’re leaving me
To join their other friends, high above in the sky.
I marvel at the thought.

Inhale, exhale.

They must have a home somewhere else,
Far greater than what I gave them.
Then my fingers burn as the
Paper reaches its end.
Then suddenly, my feet begin to move too,
Feet like the feet of a deer,
Just as the eager clouds before,
They race towards their home,
Wherever that may be.

Inhale, exhale.

My breaths start to quicken
While my strides lengthen.
I don’t stop nor look behind.

Inhale, exhale.

I am running from the gunman’s sights,
Over brush and chopped down trees.

Inhale, exhale.

I make it to the top of the mountain.

Inhale--

Alas: The Heights!