Faith

I stared at the dirt Long enough to memorize The cracks. Thought this hole was The only architecture Left for me. Cold hands and a heavy chest, Sinking into the quiet Because it was easier Than standing up. But there is a fracture In the ceiling, A sliver of pale morning Bleeding through the frost. I have to believe The ground holds firm If I reach up. Hold firm. Reach up. Hold firm. I am pulling my way out, My way out. Pulling my way out, Pulling out. Pulling my way out, Out of the gravity. Every muscle burning With a sudden faith In the outside. In the outside. In the outside. In the outside. It took a reckoning To realize I was holding The shovel. I dug this grave, But I refuse To sleep in it Tonight. The air tastes different Up here. Thinner, but it finally Feels right. I can see The horizon bending. The world is still spinning And I want to spin with it, Tearing through the dirt, Leaving the heavy cold behind. I trust the surface. I trust the morning. No more digging, Just climbing, Just the ascent. My hands are cut, But I feel the warmth On my skin. But I feel the warmth On my skin. The world did not Leave me behind. I just had to step back Into the light. I am out Of the hole. I am out Of the hole.