XIX

WHERE I DIE

I keep moving, feeling my way along a wall.

I stop again, another wall. I hear things,

can only hear things in the gloom and darkness.

I believe I am headed to an opening but

here is yet another wall.

I feel like a drowning

child reaching for the ocean’s surface,

heading for air with my last breath

but instead touch the sea bottom.

I find no air where I search

where I touch. Now,

for the first time, I have the

cold keen awareness that

the heavy ash will kill me

in this unkind tower-particled hole.

My breath comes

in short gasps,

inhaling the hot

grit-filled cloud

that packs the space.

I pause to gather some

breath. My hands reach out.

I am in a corner,

three walls about me.

The concrete has

an unforgiving hardness.

I shiver. I am not brave

but cannot accept

the thought of my own death.

I grow desperate to be saved.

I am not yet ready to die,

though I become aware

it is less and less my choice.

Now, unable to see,

unable to escape,

unable to breath,

I understand death

approaches me.

How strange a turn it is,

the place I ran to for protection

becomes a death place.

My cave is a conspirator

against me. How like the tower

for those who trusted

it for security is this tunnel

becoming for me.

And like the tower,

it too is a fraud,

a fabrication.

The opening of hope

was a fly trap and I the fly.

In taking its offer

too quickly, I was

taken in by the fragrance

of freedom, of escape

from tumbling tower.

Now comes the same surprise

for me as the fly who tastes the nectar

feels the sudden shadow

snap over him.