Bear Lodge

i approach the tower
it regards me stone-faced
if at all
and my insides fill with dread

i’ll find my way around
though it looms over me,
circling nearer, approaching
while looking away.  not fleeing,
no, but not direct or bold either.
i’ll pick my way around
the devil’s tower
and find myself at the front door again
bracing myself, filled with fear
trembling hand reaching
for the hot brass knob

all the things i’m not doing are becoming so clear
but i’m still not doing them
this is the thing that eats away at my soul
not the tower, but the reluctance i bring to it




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