Go

If only I could tell you
everything I know
about this space
into which you have come

and see how your face might change
as you learned of what is in
those dark corners
and got a glimpse under

its shadow-born foundation
to see the hard stone
it is built on,
I might feel better

about how I breathe now.
I might learn to inhale
without fearing the worst
has entered me.

I might imagine
exhaling no trace
of poison into
your available air.

Instead, wordless and unable,
I sit and wait for you to just feel
the same nameless
everything I know.

It’s all I seem to be able
to do: this waiting, this stunted
breathing, this fear of full living.
This selfish dying within

that offers you nothing
but precipice.
It is unfair to assume
that you should fall when I do.