27 November 2021

Digging Down, Way Down


You ask for a song in praise, and so I look up
to the sky over the mud cylinder I have
dug myself into, and find gratitude for damp earth
and light, for the expansion of ribs when I inhale.
I touch the sides.  They weep, but my eyes are dry.  We
take turns, it seems, as we learn each other’s rhythms,
Earth and I.  We row our boats along the root rivers of trees,
drink at dark pockets of nutrient-restoring compost, and spit.
I am grateful to see this life within the abused soil, grateful
to be part of it when alive, before I am burned and buried,
before I am bound to stay six feet down and to join it wholly
and absolutely.  Now I know Earth breathes and wants me.

  My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2019 Susan L. Chast


Sherry Blue Sky said...

My new favourite. I love the looking up from the mud cylinder to be grateful for earth......and the kinship with the earth that will one day cover us.

Susan said...

I wrote it for last weeks Earthweal prompt but "forgot" to post it as I haven't read any. I'll try to rectify that.