Poem 396 – In the Mud Between the Cliffs

You demand that I join you, up there in the sunlit uplands
Your voice echoing down to my dark pit,
This pool of mud between two high cliffs.

Waist-deep, unable to move,
Except to sink further, how am I to climb out –
I am too wearisome.

To lift a leg is to expire,
To raise my voice too exhausting,
So I know the choking mud shall rise to my neck.

And then it shall consume me,
In the darkness between these cliffs –
In filth I mark my grave.

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