Under the Weight

Cold stone pressed into my back,

damp earth’s breath heavy and slow.

Rain hammered the roof above,

a relentless drum in the dark.

I crouched beneath the house’s bones,

holding the dirt’s cold weight,

the smell of wet roots and lost things

seeping into skin and thought.

Outside the storm raged without mercy,

inside, the slow pulse of fear and calm,

a quiet place carved from earth,

a hollow waiting for the rain to pass.