Soil
I heard the first spadesful hit, it pounded and screamed a me, lingering just outside the protection of my justification; its thumping inevitability making me take every breath with overbearing gratitude. The second shovel shoved down another load of guilt, and I could feel the oxygen scamper to the corners of the tiny wooden box. At least it was padded with ‘I-had-tos’ and ‘There-were-no-other-ways’, though that didn’t help with the feeling of being suffocated.
My burial continued quickly from there, as more people got involved, throwing shame down at me with impertinence. I began to suck, my lips forming an ‘O’, in order to drag whatever air I could scavenge into my lungs, but I didn’t bang against the roof, I didn’t shout and scream and fight, I just allowed it to pile and pile above me – until – six feet below the earth… I allowed the guilt to consume me.
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