I was cold below the surface;
Trapped, clawing my way back up and gasping for air. All I could taste was a mouth full of dirt and soft screaming. Could anyone hear me? was anyone even listening to me? the dark penetrated my thoughts and swallowed me whole, and I could feel panic gnawing at me like a rabid animal. Coated, in the muck and the mire, with the bugs nibbling at my flesh on my toes and cheeks; I begged, called for them to stop, to leave me alone. But no one could hear me.
And yet, I felt a sense of peace, a hushed sense of wonder between the earth. And I stared down at myself once more, under a faded stone. What was the meaning? was it the lichen covered rock that left my legacy? the fading of time passed, washing over me with each and every ticking second?
And as I looked back at myself once more, I realized,
that I had buried my old self behind.
Walking, further and further, into the clouds I followed;
and a weary traveler once more, left a ghost in the ground to mourn.
© Danielle Willard, 2018. All rights reserved.