The Light

Cold hands reach in, searching

for something.

They find nothing, then return home.

My hands over my mouth, chest tight

from holding burning breath,

hesitant to move, to let go,

to be free.

The night’s darkness overwhelming

as distant lanterns bleed out,

dimming sparks flickering

into the pit.

They approach so slowly,

it’s an agony to wait,

and my empty stomach roars

with a ferocious anger.

There’ll be no sleep tonight,

again, your favoured pattern

present, accounted for,

and the cranes will eat some more of the land

we can’t afford to own.

I try to keep the light on,

and remove remaining sludge.

I try to keep the light on,

I try to keep the light on.

I try to keep the light on

but the flames,

they hold their grudge.

A feeble light

dying

in an otherwise

dark room.

A feeble light

drowning in

this deep

and black lagoon,

the final warmth suffocating

bleeding into blackness,

a desperate whimper

as it becomes nothing.