The inhale flames
it’s way through my lungs
carving gorges
in my blood lines

 

To want death
is a barrel collapsing
before eyes have
begun to flinch.

 

We each try
our hand
at tunneling
out of sand bag
air

 

closed or open
mouthed
with diaphramic
yearning

 

we all are born
with shovels

Sarah is a poet & artist living out life and faith through the beautiful mess of humanity. She currently is raising two boys with her amazing blogging husband and has dreams of traveling the world.