It’s difficult down here

with the trees and the sky and the sunshine
and the interminable ache and the unfed longing
and the breeze and the ground and the shelter
and the burning blush and the gaping holes.

Down here 
everything is hard 

with the work and the breaks
the separations and lines
the urge to merge and
the desire to hide

and the pressure to push

away. I tease out 
links of gold 
down here 

in a terrible tangled chain.