Tristan Robert Lange

ALIVE

Consciousness regained,
There is a darkness everywhere
With only the faintest light
To illuminate things illusively.

There’s no room.
The faint light enters in slivers
Like light peering in a box
Through its thinnest cracks.

The air is stale,
Stagnant like a dead pond,
Still like a funeral womb,
This is a cell for the dead.

This enclosure is stuffy
With only hints of fresh
Unadulterated airflow seeping
In to greet dried, sore nostrils.

What has brought me here?
Why do I feel so alone?
How can I feel so hopeless
When I should feel otherwise?

These questions dance like death
Around my fragile mind,
Welling up tears of desperation
In tearless, barren eyes.

The feeling of sorrow
Overcomes all of my senses.
I am a desolate wasteland
Hidden from all that brings peace.

And here I lay, lifeless
Yet, alive and aware.
Am I imprisoned, locked up,
Thrown away like spoiled meat?

No movement is possible,
Terror begins to possess me!
Can I not escape this place,
This confining and hard pallet?

A thud resounds loudly,
Then another and another,
The slivers of light dimming
At the sound of each thud.

The sounds of moans,
Distant cries from above me,
Can be heard ever so faintly
As ghosts haunting an upper room.

More thuds followed by
The sound of loose particles
Falling as sand in an hourglass.
The moans grow more distant.

How can I escape?
I can’t move my legs,
Nor can I move my arms.
My hands try to feel by my sides.

The enclosure walls are deceptive,
Soft like satin or silky scarves.
They are thinly cushioned
Yet, the walls are impenetrable.

Where am I? Where the hell…
Where the hell am I…please…
I can’t breathe…need air…
Claustrophobia overwhelms me.

Franticly, I push to my sides.
I try to lift my confined legs.
All attempts to move, to escape
Are vain efforts of utter desperation.

Complete darkness engulfs me.
Faint words of remorse are uttered
To the sounds of ghostly howls.
Mother, can you hear me?

Again, I try to move,
To scream like a murder victim,
But my movement is impossible,
My screams bounce instantly back.

My mind plays tricks on me,
Is this a dream, a nightmare?
Will I soon wake in sweaty relief
Like a claustrophobe exiting an elevator?

I just want to escape,
To break free, to actually breathe
And feel the fresh air on my skin.
Mother don’t cry! Can’t you hear me?

Someone get me out…help…
Help me get out of here…
Somebody please help me…
I need to get out...please help.

This enclosure is my tomb,
It’s narrow walls press in
As if I am being crushed.
Mother, I don’t want to die!

I can hear those solemn words,
“In nomine Patris...et Filii…
Et Spiritus Sancti. Amen!”
The last word pierces my soul.

Mother, can you hear me?!?
Get me out of this box,
Get me out of this coffin,
I’ve been buried alive!