Poetry: Hidden Sky

“Without it, I am lost…”

Hoping that nobody will notice
me, as I squeeze the ink out of my pen
cooking words and baking sentences,
slogans that guard the last bastion of sanity
for me.

Without it, I am lost,
buried under rocks
biting tightly metal tube
to inhale the missing air.

Had to sacrifice for it a lot,
on the altar made of bone and ash
with smoke rising like a cable
that I might be able to ascend one day.

Now I’m just warming frozen limbs
next to a flickering flame
of a makeshift fire;
lost in the woods,
the sky is hidden here at night.

Poetry by Vladimir Fischer