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Second Chance





Second Chance

Suppose I were to fall
into the center of the earth
and land in the molten ore
that awaits me there.
Would I be encased
in burning lava, hot with the fire
that boils beneath its surface,
breaking red cracks through
its black crusted skin?
Would I sink into this viscous shroud
and burrow myself deep
into my burial ground?
Would I rotate into dizziness
within the earth’s center
and orbit eternally around the sun?
Would the magnetic poles,
north and south, pull me apart?
Or would I suddenly rejuvenate,
spurt upward through the tunnel
gored through the rocks in mythic times?
Would I then dig through the dirt of the earth,
and burst back into life anew?
Would the ashen shroud
protect my fire-forged Self
long enough for me to begin again,
so that this time, this time,
I might get it right?
I look up through the tunnel,
seeking guidance,
and see the pinpoint of the sun’s light
fade into darkness.
One by one, the stars go out.


Cynthia Pitman





 


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