Soapbox Poet

Holding My Breath in a Tunnel (a poem)

there are vivid moments within

the tunnel view where colors dig deeper-

heavier from holding eyes shut.

I hold my breath and wait to come

out on the other side into pastel nothingness.

It was 10 seconds, and then a few more.

Out from under the aching concrete,

a weight lifted off my shoulders tells me to open

my eyes and pray to the damp pavement ahead of me.

Because for all those seconds I chose to rush through the dark,

I also chose to stay.