Second Chance

Second Chance

Suppose I were to fall
into the center of the earth
and land in the molten ore
that awaits me there.
Would I be encased
in burning lava, hot with the fire
that boils beneath its surface,
breaking red cracks through
its black crusted skin?
Would I sink into this viscous shroud
and burrow myself deep
into my burial ground?
Would I rotate into dizziness
within the earth’s center
and orbit eternally around the sun?
Would the magnetic poles,
north and south, pull me apart?
Or would I suddenly rejuvenate,
spurt upward through the tunnel
gored through the rocks in mythic times?
Would I then dig through the dirt of the earth,
and burst back into life anew?
Would the ashen shroud
protect my fire-forged Self
long enough for me to begin again,
so that this time, this time,
I might get it right?
I look up through the tunnel,
seeking guidance,
and see the pinpoint of the sun’s light
fade into darkness.
One by one, the stars go out.

Cynthia Pitman

 

Cynthia Pitman, a retired English teacher from Orlando, Florida, has had poetry and prose published in Ariel Chart, Third Wednesday (One Sentence Poem finalist), Saw Palm: Florida Literature and Arts (Pushcart Prize nominee, 2019), Pain and Renewal anthology, Vita Brevis, Leaves of Ink, Amethyst Review, Adelaide Literary Review, Right Hand Pointing, Dual Coast Magazine, Red Fez, Literary Yard, and others.  Her first poetry collection, The White Room, is forthcoming from Aldrich Press/Kelsay Books.