Trapped! Poem by henry igbinedion

A crashing spasm,
Birthing surreal silence
Dark, dank, decrepit blackness
Trapped!

In the alien void
Of Atacama sands,
Hope grasped faithfully
At the vortexes of fast ebbing lives,

Lungs full of cascaded earth
In dreaded sepulchre,
Gnarled fingers groped blind
Amid muffled groans and broken bones

Score days but three
Herculean sons in Sepulchre’s vice grip
Waited with bated breath...as

Lives past recalled on Terra Firma...
Of bronzed ballads of loved ones
The musky aroma of the lush forests,
Even the malaria songs of vampire mosquitoes

Yonder,
Amidst the cacophonies
As diggers and tippers raced to the station
A Pinera united a fevered nation.

Three score and nine days
Atacama tomb birthed at daylight
Reluctant heroes to the
Drumbeats of a sated nation
.