We proved ourselves using their prescribed survivor skills. Four days required with no outside contact. We foraged, used water purifier tablets, huddled together sharing body heat when temperatures dropped unexpectedly.
The accident was no one’s fault. His leg was most likely broken and I hoped my make-shift splint eased the pain. I had no choice but to carry him out on my back. The skies that looked threatening when we began the trek, turned black at midday. No signs of wildlife. They sensed the hell about to break loose. No sounds. No movement.
Keep moving. Just keep moving. The still air suddenly turned into howling winds. Rain pelted us sideways. We were in abject darkness. Where can we find light? In the never-ending shade of trees bent in terror? Just keep moving. Hold on, James. Hold tighter round my neck. It’s not far now . . .
Written for dVerse, the virtual blog for poets (and writers) around the globe. Today is Prosery Monday. Merril explains what prosery is:
“For this form, we take a line of poetry and place it into a prose piece. The prose can be fiction or non-fiction, but it must be a piece of prose, not poetry. You are not permitted to insert words into the given line, but you may punctuate it. This is sort of a slippery slope, using someone else’s words in your own work. Please acknowledge the line, the work, and the poet. The piece you write can be no longer than 144 words.”
The line Merril asks us to include is “Where can we find light in the never-ending shade?” from Amanda Gorman’s poem “The Hill We Climb” which she read at President Joe Biden’s Inaugural in January 2021.
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lillian the home poet 