Skip to content


Within the shadowland of the soul,

a cavern buried,

waits dark as coal.

A creeping stain,

it silent waits,

watching to see what road we decide to take.

This fetid stranger,

this rabid beast,

it digs ever deeper to fatten its feast.

It started so small,

a clinging mist,

but kept well fed,

it settled in.

Bordered by bright and cleansing light,

the darkness worked hidden and stayed alive.

With each damning word we utter and shout,

every time we ignore suffering and force others out,

every step we take down that thorny path,

we fill up the shovel,

and help the darkness expand.

This venomous enemy,

this eater of souls,

we condemn its presence,

ignoring the shovel we hold.

Published inPoetry