Skip to main content

Down, Down, Down

        I throw another pail of water into the black pit. The water sloshes through the air and disappears as it falls. 

Down, 

       Down, 

            Down.

I don't hear it hit the bottom; I don't feel it make a dent. But I must fill the pit. I must feed it. 

I work to fill the pail again. Each day I sit down and work towards the things I have always wanted but never felt I would achieve. Now I know I just have to fill the void to get them, and that starts with filing the pail. 

The chapters I write, the videos I make, and the steps I take to transform myself into the person I want help raise the water line to the top. 

With the bucket full, I feel a sense of gratitude, a small ray of happiness. But without the pit full, I know it will never last. So I throw the water in, hoping to see it rise to the top. 

When I turn around, the water falling to black behind me; I spot another bucket. A new aspiration. Something more to work on. 

Of course! If I have 2 buckets at once, the pit will fill faster. 

But now I work twice as hard, working on twice as many projects, attending twice as many events, and taking twice the amount of classes. The moments that once felt like overflowing emotions now feel like nothing more than a drop of sweat. 

Still, I work and work and work. The water must rise, and the pit must be fed. 

More walks. More writing. A full calendar, with the only sacrifice being my little time of peace. 

Once full, I throw the water overboard, hoping to hear the sound of it meeting all the work I have already poured in. 

It never comes. 

Now more buckets sit crowded around me. More things to do, more projects to complete, and more ways to try and fill the void. 

Cut out the sleep and start making a movie. Maybe this will fill the void. More classes, less time, more books, less sleep. It will all be worth it when I get to swim in the beauty of a full trench. 

The water leaves the bucket, no drop left behind, but the effort is all for naught. 

My knees slide to the grass. My fingers play with the edge of the abyss, feeling the pull coming from its depths. Maybe all along I haven't been meant to fill it but to join it. I want to fall into the darkness. 

Maybe the water is waiting for me at the bottom. Perhaps it is full, but my eyes can’t see. 

I step into the dark and fall.

Down. 

    Down.

        Down. 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

December Poetry Collection

  In the month of holidays and reflection, my writing inspiration has struck me in many ways. Explore some of the poems I wrote in December as I graduated, reflected on the year, and trekked through my past(visiting my family for the holidays).  “Young and healthy”  They laugh about how I Do not know the gift of pain That creeps up on you as you age  A constant worsen of your  Body shutting down What fools!  Do they not know my body  Has always been an  Overachiever? A thing that did not  Listen to the ticks of time  That does not care About what I am supposed to be  It only knows how to creak my bones So I cannot stand  It only knows the medication I feed it  So I can survive the day  And pretend to be  I will die soon My therapist says not to joke about such morbid circumstances  That if my young age and place of birth are any indication I still have years ahead of me I accept it will be years until my bod...
Post a Comment
Read more

September Poems

  The Summer of 2021  I wish my eyelids were cameras So I could hold every detail of this moment Close to my chest forever The way the grass feels, The laughter in the air,  The sense of pride, relief And happiness Every detail of the stars, and leaves Will soon be lost In the passage of time  No picture could dare capture it It would never see the magic It would never get the joy So I close my eyes tightly Hoping that my memory won't fail me And my eyes will act as a camera  The Moon is Beautiful Isn’t it?  A homecooked meal sitting on the table  Hugs as I cry into her shoulder  A handwritten note, tear stains on the paper  A tucked strand of hair behind my ear  A hand to hold as I across the rocky terrain  Holding a space at the table, even after years away  A night of laughter and champaign  Letting me pick the movie, again  A standing ovation at midnight in our room  “This reminded me of you”  A voice th...
Post a Comment
Read more

November Poetry

  Hello! Here is my collection of poems from November! Enjoy  Cyclical  A drop of water splashes Onto my arm. Out of the pot For my tea that I made for my  Sore throat that I got from  Talking into the mirror  For an hour about my dreams That caused puffy checks  Because I am afraid I will never  Be the person I want to be  So I curled into bed. The taste of sugar  In my mouth. My heart like  Sand weighed down by this fear  The blanket consumes me  Cocoons me as I isolate And ignore the notifications And wonder if I will ever be ok  I need tea. I put a pot on the stove To boil Hey pretty lady, I sharpen my nails into Points meant to kill Each fallen shaving  A sacrifice for safety A natural weapon  A counter for words as I Walk past. Whispers under  Drunken breath,  While starting at my ass I want to claw them through eyes  Let the blood pool Like the ketchup that Squirts onto the sidewalk An...
Post a Comment
Read more