Cynthia Linn Bates
Abyss
I hate that everywhere hurts these days,
inside and outside.
Hate that I drag through the day,
scared to turn on the news,
more scared to turn it off.
Hate this daily dismal dance,
one step forward,
two steps back,
simply marking time
holding my breath.
Hate being swept toward the cliff
against my better judgement,
against my will, or my protests.
Hate the pushy lemmings
cheering my descent.
Hate this ash grey
smeared on my soul
as if I’m watching a house burn,
hoping no one inside dies,
knowing someone will.
Hate the feel of hate
churning, bubbling,
molten acid sharp,
sinking through my bones
my brain, my heart.
What I hate most—
I saw this coming,
felt when it came,
like I’ve been here before,
lived it before,
and it killed me before.
—Submitted on 09/21/2020
Cynthia Linn Bates lives in San Luis Obispo County. Her poems, stories, and essays have appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the San Louis Obispo Tribune, Kites Tales, and other publications, journals, and anthologies.
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