Mud

De José Antonio Calañas Continente
A raven in the Mission, San Jose de Capistrano, California, November 2018


Nothing changes, nothing has changed,
but nothing stays the same either.
Muddy sadness crawls up your skin
actually freezing your very being.
Clayish goo covers your whole body,
it dries, you cannot move,
breathing becomes a chore,
fleeing is possible no more.
Panic sets in, you need to escape,
but there is no escaping in sight:
you are confined to loneliness
in a narrow coffin of muddy despair.
It gets dry, and dark, and distressing,
your heart is barely beating,
your lungs wringing oxygen out of clay:
collapsing is near, you just give in.
All resistance is gone,
the clay figure you have become
fails silently to the ground,
the muddy crust around you cracks open,
you seem to be free to go.
Up and breathe, though no luck,
you are still on the run.

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