The lantern light is blinding

Stark

On either side, dark, utterly dark

We travel at a steady clip

Grab our fellows' hands when their feet slip

Pebbles clatter over the edge

Of the narrow ledge

The dirt absorbs their sound

But we imagine they roll yards

Maybe miles

Probably miles to the ground

Don't look down

Here we never frown

Or gaze into the ebony black.

 

Sometimes there's voices -- no words

Only an airy giggle is heard

Or a chuckle or a little shriek--

Coming from beyond the dark and bleak

Together we band

Grasping tight each other's hands

As if to comfort (or restrain)

Here there's no pain

There is no sneaking off into the mist

They'd know you're gone--

They have a list.

That laughter again. It's eerie, they say.

But to me it sounds sincere

Like that first day in May

When finally the sun beats warmth into your back.

 

We trot after the steady lantern light

My neighbors grasp my hands with all their might

I grimace and wiggle my thumbs

Apologetically: "My hands are numb."

They watch me rub my hands together

As we plod

I give an awkward smile and a nod.

Satisfied, they turn away

Nervously, I disobey

I do what we are told to never do

I look into the pure black fog

(Or is it deep, deep, blue?)

The stark light flickers

Again that joyful snicker

The others yell my name in horror as I shoot off

into the night.

 

Then down the embankment, tumbling, flying

Wipe a tear off my chin and realize I'm crying

The ground slopes up then -- climb and scramble

Push my way through weeds and brambles

Around me, inky black gyrating

Palpable and suffocating

Then

I run out of the fog and I can see

There are birds and trees

It is day.

I'm in a forest bright and gray.

I come out onto a ridge and am entranced

By green fields and blue lakes far below

and people like ants.

And orchestrated by a songbird's trill

The sun begins to rise over the hill

I sit and watch as it touches peaks with its

light.