To Get By
The cave collapsed 12 days ago.
I'm not sure if they’re coming. I’m not sure if anyone's out there.
I don't know if I've been forgotten or they even remember. I don’t know if there's a search party.
Not even sure if my friends made it out. Everything could be lost. And it just might be.
Nothing in the situation tells me to look for something better. I can’t physically see in front of me. Can't even see my own hands in front of my face. I can barely hear anything either. The oxygen levels seem to be decreasing as well.
I am more thirsty than the oceans have water. I could eat an entire pasture of cows grilled as steaks. I'm not sure if what I'm doing is sleeping or passing out from dying.
Nothing tells me I have a chance at all. Not one thing.
Yet underneath the rubble, in between the boulders of the rocks
that fell 12 days ago, there's a formation. There’s a possible something.
Between the breakage of the rocks in the pile of the hundreds of pounds of stones there’s…a flicker. A tiny hole no bigger than the ball size of ball point pen
I can almost see out of it. No. I can see out of it. I just can't tell what's on the other side.
I can't see people. Can't see if there's drills on the top of the cave trying to break in. Can’t see the exit. Can't see anything. All I see is the smallest light just barely piercing in.
There's no reason I should see this as anything else but a hole between the rocks. I know this. I'm not a fool. Yet, it’s because I'm not a fool that I know this one thing gives me something to believe I can stay alive.
I don't know if I'll make it out.
I’m not sure if I'm going to survive the thirst, the hunger.
Not sure if anyone's going to come to my rescue.
All I do know is that I have to hold on to something.
And that little hole is all I have.
That breakage between the rocks is the only thing that gives me belief.
That tiny flicker of light is enough.
And enough is all I need to get by.