Coma

I have gone down into the tomb.

It is cold but surprisingly light inside.

I have taken off my shoes and

Now press my bare feet into

The damp rock.

Inside, everything is white and bare.

Not the kind of white that

Speaks of glory or resurrection,

It is more like the white of surrender.

Totally empty, devoid of feeling,

Stark.

I, myself, feel emptied out.

Hollow, like a husk.

My seed, my lifeblood has fallen

On rocky ground and

I have nothing left to give.

And so, for a time, this tomb

This shimmering, mysterious curtain

That laps the shores of life and death

Is not an unpleasant home.