(journey Inwards Collection) ....At The Bottom Poem by Janice Windle

It’s happened.
I’m there.
This pit is not bottomless.
Here,
raw fingers scrabbling at the bare ground,
my despair has brought me.
Wrapped in harsh darkness,
mind and body
bound
and broken
as I fell
from false hope.
My fragile grip
slipped.
The light was lost,
receding in the tunnel
far above this prison well.

Escape plan:
Lie still, stay quiet.
Give in to the tightening bands.
Loosening muscle, shrink
so to crawl out one day.
saying, “Shhh!
It happens.”