A Talk To The Night Poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen

I cling to the greeny walls
of the pit where I fall
I cannot grasp them by my hand
they live in mind
where no moss, no rusts are found.

Oh, the sting to decide!
It knocks me down
to the pit
so dark and deep!
No other way except
that I must swim
to get over
the searing pain.

On earth
there's not easy task
for even if I sow a healthy seed,
the breaking of the flesh
I cannot escape.

I ask Him to withhold
this burning, this dying
for a little while,
for a little while,
or else, I'd be consumed
Ah, Christ, do you smile?