Deep Journey
Some poems take you by surprise,
stun you with kaleidoscope of color.
Other poems take you down paths
you're afraid of treading,
so you sit, pen in hand,
staring at a blank page,
feeling the pen's smooth barrel between your fingers
afraid to plunge so deep inside.
Sometimes you watch your words
circle the opening
to the place you do not want to go,
like ripples on the surface
of darkest water.
Then suddenly
courage comes from somewhere
and you plunge in
pen first--
water singing in your ears
but you don't open your eyes
and you don't open your mouth,
just feel the cold pressure
over all your skin
as you push down and down
until at bottom,
you touch.
There's no monster there,
not even a starfish,
and no treasure,
not even one pearl.
You push up
lungs bursting
through the icy blackness
and your own tears,
till you break the surface,
gasping, exhausted,
yet somehow calm
in the knowledge that you've done it,
gone under
without turning aside,
and come back.