Near the Bottom of the Soul

Is it possible to find myself my true self
so near the bottom of the soul--
so empty the echo rings off the sides of this space
like the pebble dropping into a well
dug by hand
by one experienced
in longing?

I am so near empty tonight
even tears are hard to bring up
as witness to a life
unworthy of reflection.
Why cry when the slate is so blank?
Why mourn a loss unrecognized by no one?
What meaning can be found in nothing?

Alone, unaccounted for,
no one waits to hear the reverberations,
the sound that comes again from a call
into the darkness.

Looking up at death
is so easy.
Looking back on this life
I step away into the darkness
relieved of the body
searching for something soft to hold onto—
a child’s hand in the depth of night
probing for the comfort of warmth
of the breast or some small, sweet gesture
of humanity.

Tonight I keep death close
as a reminder
to breathe.