By Katelyn Durst


The many tunnels

honeycomb me in

one by one,


I become frozen in deep blue.

I become noisy as a bee cloud.

I become holy like a rooted tree.


The many tunnels

open me into

their skin,


to see the golden lamp, a golden calf

reborn. To believe in the candle who

outweighs, outlives this darkness.


The many tunnels

echo with the heavy

buzz of truth


a thick noise, snow-like, mysterious as sparkles of light.

A chorus, a gospel, again and again.always knocking, always

echoing, heavy with the buzz of truth.


The many tunnels

go on and on. They hold strong

and sweet


for blessinga goatskin dewed with promise.

for forgiveness and for no more comparing thoughts

and for silkworms to cocoon my wings.


The many tunnels

show me joy

as they unravel me


to hurl myself into the unknown ,

wade in this heavy poolto hold

my belief candle high


upon this dark and soon-sacred hill.


Katelyn Durst is a community artist, creative activist, teacher and youth worker. She has worked within urban youth development and urban community development for ten years and has taught poetry for six years, recently conducting poetry therapy workshops at a youth psychiatric hospital, and for Freedom Schools summer programming in a workshop focused on healing from the unjust deaths of youth of color. Katelyn is currently pursuing a master's in Urban Studies and Community Arts from Eastern University with a focus on trauma-informed art-making to build sustainable and transformative resiliency within urban/inner-city and displaced communities. In her spare time, she dreams of becoming an urban beekeeper. She is poet-in-residence at The Mudroom.

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