piece

Dig further, maybe you will find it
She yields. Head down, she begins
She picks it with her fingers, one
By one. Time passes. She starts
Digging with her cupped hand,
A handful of crumbling earth at a time
She stops for a moment and look around.
Where? Dig deeper, you will find it
Anxious, she digs with her hands,
she doesn’t like the dirt in her nails
still, head down, she crawls into the dark hole
her fingers sore, they are now bent on the joints.
She is waist deep, the earth starts to soften.
Her feet is covered with mud.
She stares at the wall encircling her,
Brown, cold, dirty.
She thinks she might be halfway through,
So she continues. Scratching the earth with her fingers
It gets muddy, and she’s stuck in the mud knee high,
It is warmer, maybe this is the right place, she ponders
Her hands are just the right shape now.
They cup to shovel the runny mud. Her nails filled with mud
They wont come out.
Mud is waist high. She finds fist-sized rocks in the mud.
It is black, and hot. She picks it up. She rubs it.
It does not shine. She drops it. Another one!
She finds another one. She keeps on finding
These rocks she forgot what she is there for.
Soon, she became disinterested.
It is too late to get out, she thinks.
Deeper, maybe deeper.
Soon, she stops. She forgot how the sun feels like
She looks up, only the somber grey sky.
She’s stuck in the hole.
Panicked, she tries climbing the wall
The walls won’t support her,
Her hand digs into the cold
Earth. Its too soft.
It’s too late, it’s too late
She looks up the hole
That she has created.
How gullible has she been.
Its getting cold.
As she yells out,
Echo…