Going Down

Another poem. I would love to have something else to post right now, but aside from spending a lot of time shuttling my kids around and trying to get a few things of the Honey-Do list, I have been writing a novella for use in my World History Class. So...another poem...

A soft sweet rain falls on my face,
I never want to leave this tranquil place,
A breeze blows coolly through my shirt,
My damp pants are covered with dark dirt,
The sky is lifeless with gray clouds,
My bones cleaned eagerly by cows.

Sunk deeply in the thick clinging mud,
My salty tears form a small puddle
On my cheek, roots entangle my body
Turning my skin to a fine light sod;
Not yet! I climb from my hole,
You will never get to take my soul.
Too hell you will be sent to burn,
And sit there you will for eternity,
Giant rocks weigh you down,
A fate fitting for a social clown,
Still I walk amongst the living.
I will never go down without fighting.