A face of fear with words of hurt, it tricks us into

a pit of lies. The lies drip down the walls as water

trickles off mossy stone. Look up to see an opening

so narrow and squares of concrete damage start to

close in. Breath starts to feel claustrophobic as the

heat bounces off the concrete. A chest beating

through the wet flesh that encases our being.

How does one go about breaking the cycle

of painful evocation in such as state of

conscience undoing? The words bounce

off the hardened walls making the body

feel entombed inside. We beg to be freed

from this tunnel that is closing in around us.

If only we pleaded and looked to the narrow

opening, we would see a hand reaching down

to save us from the lies and downfalls we created.

The hope and love that belongs to a man. A man

with holes in the palms of his hands. The holes

resemble an undying love, a love that is safe and

free to receive. All he asks for in return, is to believe.