Poem

it feels as though i make my way
through massive rock
like a vein of ore
alone, encased

i am so deep inside it
i can't see the path or any distance:
everything is close
and everything closing in on me
has turned to stone

since i still don't know enough about pain,
this terrible darkness makes me small
if it's you, though -

press down hard on me, break in
that i may know the weight of your hand,
and you, the fullness of my cry.

- Ranier Maria Rilke