Here! I found it.
Now I can hide.
The beast coming
will never find me
in this dark cave.
I must now go deeper into it.
Humidity grows
and light is each step dimmer.
Frogs croak, wings fly above…
Darkness seems to play with my eyes
I try to rely on my other senses
It’s when my stomach remembers me
I still have to eat something for the day
My sight’s attempt to adapt to the dark
is as ineffective as a wolf
trying to prey on something by itself
I think I see a-void between the rocky walls
Was that the hemline of someone’s clothes
walking towards what seems to be
an endless, inner part of the cave?
I guess I might have heard steps,
although I did not give it to much of importance
when I only thought I heard it with the left ear
Maybe the noisy silence of this place
is also messing with my head…
I feel scared.
Who is this stranger that hides in there?
I cannot go back now.
It would be too risky.
The shadows are now my best companion,
but am I really safe as I’m surrounded by it?
I press my fingers
against the certainty of Godly-placed rocks
as I decide to go further.
From the ceiling there is a thin waterfall.
I hear the sound of it with my left ear…
but behind this waterfall there is this figure.
It’s a man the same age and height as me.
He contorts himself against the wall, terrified.
The look in his eyes is of complete horror.
I hear a high pitch sound with my right ear.
What the heck is it that is wrong with me?
His breathing is fast.
As I approach the waterfall, I see a reflex on it.
Its nails are huge
and fur covers its body.
There is bloodlust in its eyes
And rage in its clenched canines.
I try to run from it also moving away
into the veils of water falling
from above
only to be hit by a rock
the man was secretly holding.
It hits my left cheek.
I feel as if claws had sliced my right cheek, though.
I can’t dodge his ongoing attacks.
As the rock hits my head I grow dizzier and dizzier,
And feel like vomiting.
I have no more strength to say anything;
not even move…
The only sound I can produce
is a dying growl.
As life comes out of me,
my eyes finally adapt to the dark.
I realize there is only one person here.
Now it’s too late to try to solve
the trichotomy in me.
by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro
Posted in Poetry
Tags: literature
Recent Comments