The Dark Employs a Heavy Hand

The dark employs a heavy hand

adds pressure by degrees

then waits.

That’s all it has to do.

It’s enough to break the best of us.

The rest of us long beaten to the ground

see the soil packed firm above our heads.

Our fingernails crack from scratching at granite.

Hear the dark. Smell it. Taste its poison

an hallucinogen

nothing more.

We beat ourselves.

We draw the weight

wrap it around our bitter bones

carry it down into our own dungeonous dreams

expecting rescue when there’s no one left

except

the rest of us

the best of us too burdened to respond

because the dark employs a heavy hand

adds pressure by degrees

then waits.

That’s all it has to do.

The rest is up to us.