Dim

Show me to the stairs
That were not there
But now they sit
And lie in wait
For a quiet ascension
An unquestionable fate

Take me to the end
Of this un-dug muddy trench
Ignore the puddles of blood and tears
Sitting stagnant for years
Waiting with a quiet assumption
Upon abandoned frontiers

Throw me down a jagged hillside
Decimate this reluctant sight
Take some time to piece it together
Forget about the weather
Even if it’s the sun and not the rain
Here remains a dim conjecture

Reviews

[...]

. those stairs exist ... and they're powerful ...
. that's why that which hides them from us works fanatically to hide them ...
. excellent post, dear poet ...