The Cave – Third Sunday In Lent



In the cave of his mind
he wrestle with demons
Amid the toxic vapors
of wood`smoke from a fire
hot enough to smolder
yet not enough to ignite
he reels he stumbles blindly
first this way & then that
in tears not born of grief
yet surely grief`worthy
breath caught mid`gasp
not by surprise but surprising
his only escape to turn away
from the shadow`fire step back
into darker shadows
long gone cold with time
there to curl up a fetus
praying for elusive sleep
his delusion the conviction
that he is a prisoner
of the cave of illusion
where fire only smolders never burns
where warmth is only toxic ever cold
At last in his half-dream
he stands in sunlight
at the cave’s mouth
bathed in the glistening grace
cleansed by the very breath of Eden
seeing as though for the first time
the mountain the sea the river the road
and the strong man walking alone
but not lonely into time


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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One Response to The Cave – Third Sunday In Lent

  1. platonic allegory

    Liked by 1 person

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