Holes
Holes we make with the shovels of our lives,
digging slowly and deeply,
Never to be filled...just left out in the open,
Moving on to dig the next one.
Thinking not of who might fall in,
trapped in a pit of exposed earth,
Waiting to fix the problem and fill it in,
Hoping the next one will be a bit more shallow.
Holes we make without even knowing,
Wounds painfully inflicted, the glowing lamp left not for warning,
Deep scars scooped out of the soil,
Wounds left but never healed, despite how much we toil.
digging slowly and deeply,
Never to be filled...just left out in the open,
Moving on to dig the next one.
Thinking not of who might fall in,
trapped in a pit of exposed earth,
Waiting to fix the problem and fill it in,
Hoping the next one will be a bit more shallow.
Holes we make without even knowing,
Wounds painfully inflicted, the glowing lamp left not for warning,
Deep scars scooped out of the soil,
Wounds left but never healed, despite how much we toil.
Eric B. Ramey
Copyright ©2007 Eric B. Ramey
Comments
Post a Comment