by John Driscoll, M.D.
This morning I sank into myself
Putting aside the cigarettes and whiskey
I dropped like a stone
leaving but a vanishing ripple above.
I fell into the slime of self,
the elemental nutrients of being.
Here I found deceptions and broken treaties
but in the murkiest strata
I came upon the will.
Curious that in this dark space
I would see light with no lamentation.
It was pure and sparkling.
Its drama was life with no mask,
no actor’s pigment for the persona.
This thing that I call will filled me with the energy to surface
and once above,
having caught my breath,
I felt no need to return