day 11

postscript to the final chapter

these paths that lead me
out of and away from
become twisted and double back.
snaking over sand dunes
of doubt,
minutes slip through fingers
as wasted time
spent waiting for an answer.

i can't pretend to know
what cruel ties have left me
bound to a sinking ship
or how the lungs can
bear to breathe
as they slowly fill with water.

there is purgatory on your lips,
a taste left lingering on my tongue
that keeps me clinging to the darkness
and hungering
for more.

faith emaciated,
i walk your streets a beggar,
empty hands and empty pockets,
and back, heavy
with these burdens
waiting for the moment
when feet
no longer carry me home.