Moving in Slow Motion

Mind is spinning,
Spiraling.
Trying to find the source

of the sagging weight
that’s tied around
the heart.

Reaching sorrow’s core
it fogs,
moving in slow motion.

Blurry eyes stop seeing outward.
Looking in—
in on the darkness,

finding what was buried there
camouflaged in life’s distractions.

Weary ears hear only silence
outside of the solemn hole—
deafening is the mind’s disquiet.

A mind that ventured
now stuck inside,
Naked,
with no place to hide,

waiting for the return
of fallen tide.