by Angela Topping
Whether to cry out in answer to
my father's straggled cries.
As he shifts bricks above my head.
Or whether to keep silent, holding back
This dust with damped lips. I lie
Sealed in and can not choose.
If I speak, death will steal my breath
Seeping in at my mouth;
If I choose silence he may go away
And weep, and never know how close
My grave was, how I longed to answer
I feel warm breath. my eyelids move
Their flutter fill my eyes with grits
Weight lifts from chest and arms
And inch by inch I live again
In my father’s arms
I cannot find strength to haul up
Words from my darkness.
