It occurs to me that I shared with you a poem a while back, with a promise to show you the other one–but then I never did.
It just so happens, I have that very poem!
The last one was all theme-y and rhyme scheme, and this one is a narrative poem. I had a lot of fun writing it. It’s about my walk in that cave last summer, which I, coincidentally, also wrote a post about.
Anyhow, here’s the poem for your perusal:
Discovering the Unknown
My flashlight turns on
With a crisp click,
The sharp sound of
Man’s clever invention.
It cuts into the darkness of
The cold cavern.
I take my first steps in,
The clammy air
Adding to the stickiness of my skin,
Already wet with sweat from the hike to this magnet of curiosity.
The faint squeak of bats,
Like a creaking door hinge,
Greets my ears.
I jump as a sudden yelling
Cuts through the stillness.
A pair runs down the path,
The source of the sudden interruption.
I sweep the beam of my new, third eye
From floor to ceiling,
Stumbling as I lose myself in observance of this wonder.
The chamber stretches too deep,
My guiding light can’t pierce through the darkness for more than fifteen short feet.
I shorten my steps as the faint daylight dwindles,
The entrance shrinking behind me.
The whooping of my unexpected companions is also gone,
The silence surprisingly lonely in its absence.
Even the squeaking bats have quieted to only the occasional squawk.
The loudest sound is my breathing,
Calmed but short,
My wonder mixing with apprehension.
Darkness holds the unknown,
And this cave is anything but light.
But a new thought strikes me,
As my light strikes a hovering stalactite:
The unknown may not be bad.
Above, there is a glow of light,
Faint, but unmistakable.
My flashlight clicks back off,
Suddenly transformed to just a hunk of metal.
I hear the roar of the waterfall,
And as I emerge, the spray gently kisses my face.
I turn back, and as I look into the cave
It doesn’t seem quite so dark.