🔵 By Matthew Boivin. Photo by lauragrafie.
The rubble lies before me like so many
broken bones from a forgotten giant.
Cracks in the Earth
trace the path of tension
as do scars
each telling a story all its own.
Here is the pain of a broken promise
There is the terror of abandonment; and there
The big one. Do you see it?
That one is love lost.
It runs so deep you’d think
of the terrific forces that must have put
such a scar on the Earth.
Look at each one and listen to the wind.
The wind that whispers to your ears.
It tells of joy and pain, hope and anguish.
It tells of life.
Look at the giant’s bones strewn
across the plateau.
It is there I must find the answers
So I clean my dusty boots and pull
my hat down low to shield the sun
from my eyes.
Pick up my shovel and grab my pick
Like an archaeologist digging through the ruins of Pompeii
I go in search of truth.
There, by the stone shaped like a heart
that looks like the place to start.
Do you hear how the wind seems to moan
when it blows across the stone?
The sand stings my eyes and the shovel
blisters my hands.
My hands begin to bleed
bust still I dig.
There, did you hear it? I hit something.
A box,
rusted and decaying.
Open the lid. Inlaid with lavender velvet.
Look there, a woman’s brooch.
And here, a lock of hair in a lavender ribbon.
Interesting artifacts so much like
reminders of the one I used to love.
Deeper still I dig
in search of that one piece
whose presence explains all the rest.
But nothing is left here for me
to find.
Look to the West, there by the boulder
shaped like an eye.
In the early morning, the dew collects so much like
fresh tears.
The light catches a shimmer
reflects off metal.
Just below the dust
hidden beneath the carapace of
a dead beetle.
A shattered piece of mirror.
I dust off the dirt
to see the eyes of a stranger
looking back at me.
Beads of sweat
dot his brow
and his face is grimy.
Carry on my weary soldier.
Scatter the pool of tears
and dig for more relics
in the dust.
Deeper than before I dig
until my head is beneath the ground.
There before me,
eye level,
a string.
I pull but there is no give
Yank harder.
The ground collapses and
buries me to my waist.
In front of me is the protruding head
of a raging bull
cast in copper.
The eyes are rubies like fire
and the horns are swords.
A gold ring hangs in his nose.
I struggle to break free of the dirt
that traps my legs.
To no avail.
The ring is cold to the touch
it loosens when I pull.
The head swings open to reveal
a tunnel lined with bones.
A faint blue light glows at the end
beckoning me further.
With my hands as shovels
I pry myself loose
and crawl into the tunnel.
The leering faces of a thousand haunts
stare back at me from eyeless sockets.
Each seems to taunt me
and laugh
at my dirty face
at my bleeding hands
at my soiled clothes.
Further into the tunnel I crawl
ignoring their taunting stares
their leering smiles.
Shards of bone cut my face
dust falls into my eyes
still I press on.
The light is closer now
and the tunnel narrows.
The faces on the wall
press nearer to my own
their jeers seem to ring in my ears.
My shoulders can barely pass
yet still I press on.
The air grows stale
and I can barely breathe.
Fight for every inch I earn
knowing it has to pay off soon.
My lungs cry out for air
and the world
grows distant.
The eyeless faces laugh one last time
Before the spots appear
in my vision.
One more inch.
One more inch.
The light changes to lavender and
a cool just of wind
slaps my face.
My lungs fill with the sweet
taste of fresh air.
I squeeze through the final inches
and enter an atrium
filled with golden chests.
Each holds a forgotten moment
a fleeting glimpse of joy.
As I open each one in turn
my soul is filled with hope, joy, and passion.
I have survived the gauntlet
and found my Eden.