The Tunnel
If you dig down deep enough
and lose the world of light
and let yourself descend
in the thick tunnel of air
and forget what it was like
to learn the outline of a hill
or breast, if you allow the pressure
of the narrowing walls, down
where you must wedge in, out of sight,
and settle in the damp cusp, the first home,
the air which stinks of grease, and read
what's written on the tunnel wall
and cannot find your name, if you dig where
there is no grip, no face, neither
friend nor foe, where the bones
which once knew the logic of your chest
scatter like thrown sticks-
there you'll wait for the good push,
the fierce act, that gives you up
and sets the tunnel aflame.
by Elliot Figman
I chose this poem today to post as lately I have been digging down deep,where as the poet says ,"there is no grip,no face,neither friend nor foe" .In "those narrowing walls where we wedge in out of sight", perhaps ,it is only in those crevices where breathing is not taken for granted nor is anything else that we begin to find ourselves.
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