Tomorrow I will don my flip flops and flashlight
Camelback and tied up boots swinging to and fro
My iron bar
For protection of course
I will lastly
Take those batteries
And push them deep into my overall pockets
I will venture deep into the drain
Perhaps bringing a framed picture myself,
And down the tepid deep water that sits
Past the crawfish I scream and cry about every time
Past those eye burning grates
Searing with daylight and echoing a monstrous, filthy noise
Everytime a vehicle bumps over them
Deeper still
Past the graffiti that warns
Donβt die
Towards the speeding, ricocheting water
Pummeling fast downhill
Avoiding any contact with it
Shimmy towards the deep cut in the concrete
Dive into it
Into an empty cave littered with spray cans and completely battered limbs of furniture
Climb over a rock hunk
Secure your cloth mask
Walk deep
For what feels like hours
Stare at the massive monoliths of graffiti
Rabid faces and skulking bodies
Beautiful and towering
Finally you are met only with dark walls around you
Until you reach the end
Aging photos and framed glass hang about
An illegible spiritual quote
Two beer cans
And a large tunnel
About knee high
Here, you place the batteries
Disconnect their pods
Arrange them solemnly
Stare
Take a photo
And leave
It is a two hour expedition in and at least the same out
And so you leave
Forever
I read this poem three times and I am sure I will read it even more, because it puts beautifully crafted words in the way I have felt during all my great transitions and for the more to come.