Excavation

from the Latin excavāre —“to hollow out” | a prose-poem

By all intensive purposes: a man appearing at times to be a woman, but anatomically speaking — a man.

We are a team of six with multiple degrees, extensive veterans of ancient sites, working painstakingly, with perspicuous attention to details, digging down. Digging down millimeter by millimeter into the subconscious strata of memories in dingy soils, sands, and clay.

We are the minors in search of veins of ore revealing truth.

The surface is normal.
Appearances are deceiving;
Lidar scans reveal a disturbed surface,
GPR — Ground penetrating radar

Exposes spirits of a forgotten race embedded within
the man. Recognized minors to minors the ancient muzzled
mouths and eyes are free to howl, wail, moan, and weep.

Old wounds once cauterized are vulcanized by fires of rage
Reopened. Raw, bellow against injustices from the genocides
Of oppressors claiming strength.

One by one they, the survivors encased in stone, are exposed from the petrified head, throat, spine — intestines turned hardened large and small. Fingers tips filled with rage turned to great sorrows:

The squabbles between the once trapped minors become a chorus of pain.
Too much to bear —

“Too much, too late,” he cries drowned out by the twenty or thirty inner cries he runs. “Run faster,” he yells/they yell. Are their voices indistinguishable from one another?

Related posts:

The Java Management Extensions (JMX) technology is a standard part of the Java Platform, Standard Edition (Java SE platform). It provides a simple, standard way of managing resources such as…

Situated on the back patio of my aunt’s home, the scent of carne, pollo, cerdo, morzilla and chorizo float through the heavy Georgian humidity. My dad and his brother-in-law guard the grill under my…

How dare I? How dare I judge others who are putting hard working into themselves. It is because of my envy. I yearn to have the dedication and skill of these jocks and jockettes. How dare I…