In this tunnel
where fear is an animal
smothering me
with unbearable fur,
I feel earth tremble
as if an ocean,
trapped beneath trees and rocks,
is pounding hard
against roots,
the way my heart hammers
against its own roots of dread.
I have heard the same roar--
tornados thundering toward me
like stampeding buffalo
until terror slams me awake.
Now this darkness
opens its one bright eye.
Light that does not mean hope
drives the future
at me fast,
your death a black train
filling the space
between me and escape.
© Jean Sampson, 2012
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| Locomotive in Chicago subway, circa 1919; photo from Wikimedia Commons |
