Giraffes

When they know they’re going to Die, giraffes dig themselves a Hole And sit in it. Alone in the desert without any Water, I sift through the sand and Sit down. The sky is so calm and endless here With no one but I to see it; Not even a bird passes by to accompany me When I go. The sun is oppressive Weighing me down further into the Shifting sands. But down here, it’s Cold And grainy, so closed With the sky shrinking fast. Through cycles of Self-loathing Self-pity Bright sky Hot sun My worst fear is now Not the cycles but That I won’t be able to pull myself out Of my hole I dug myself.