tunnel.
one mississippi.
i've never been afraid of the dark, but
lately it's overpowering. in fact,
it's practically all i see.
two mississippi.
it's past mistakes,
anger gone inward,
and regrets – those damn regrets.
name it.
three mississippi.
it's everywhere, the dark. it closes
around me and
presses heavily on my chest,
assuring me that i really am worth hating.
four mississippi.
but, goddammit, i wish that
were the end of the story.
it's those few lights – those few
precious lights –
that point me to a brilliance
uncircumscribed and ineffable, one
that speaks – the light at the end –
and this hope is at hand.
five mississippi.
but i'm still in the fucking tunnel, wondering
when i can stop holding my breath.
For some reason, this photograph fills me with sadness. The reality of the difficulty of being in the darkness gives it the melancholy nature. I truly love this picture and this poem. It is both beautiful and tragic in its admittance of the struggle and the will to keep going.
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