Unearthed

[LaughGiraffe]

From below and deep in the blackest soil
I listened to his fingers toil
and till black earth without rest
as throbbing beats slowed in my chest.
The gentle scrape as hands dug
grew louder than the ravenous bug.
 
Closer still and oh dear God,
the thinning dirt, the displaced clod,
the first blade of lemon light
stabbing through by crumbling night,
blossomed fear within my chest,
disturbed my cold, selfish rest.
I remembered then quite vividly
that the light hadn’t ever been good to me.
 
It was just past dawn when I first crawled below,
my hands the shovel, my heart the hoe,
when my flesh and soul first filled the pit
and seeded the infertile grit.
Since then I’ve existed under silt and ore
And had never been unburied before.
 
But now a beam, piercing hot.
Scalded flesh replaces rot.
Gilded shafts dull my sight
until bitter tears mourn the night.
Burrowing blindly was my only will
yet my every muscle stayed deathly still.
 
He unearthed me with a hazel gaze,
a gentle touch and earnest phrase.
Exposed were my faults and scars.
Fresh air bowed my bony bars. 

[LaughGiraffe]

Okay ellajam I gave feedback. Relax.

[jayjayaustralia]

tbh,I'm a novice at giving advice on poems.

this is really well written.

In particular I like:

"the first blade of lemon light

stabbing through by crumbling night,"

[kolemath]

First of all, thanks for sharing.  The poem reminds me of an older form.  In that way, I encourage you to consider the rhythm of the poem.  Take the first line as an example.
From below and deep in the blackest soil beLOW and DEEP in BLACKest SOil.  Think of the alternating stress pattern.  The second line of the poem is a perfect example, as is. 
I listened to his fingers toil
and till black earth without rest
as throbbing beats slowed in my chest.
The gentle scrape as hands dug
grew louder than the ravenous bug.
 
Closer still and oh dear God, how does  God fit into the digging? How might S/He fit into the to poem earlier/later?
the thinning dirt, the displaced clod,
the first blade of lemon light
stabbing through by crumbling night,
blossomed fear within my chest,
disturbed my cold, selfish rest.
I remembered then quite vividly
that the light hadn’t ever been good to me. To me, this line draws attention away from the positive momentum of this stanza, (personal opinion).
 
It was just past dawn when I first crawled below, here, the point of view shifts from he to I; how might these characters be more clearly introduced/distinguished?
my hands the shovel, my heart the hoe,
when my flesh and soul first filled the pit
and seeded the infertile grit. love this line
Since then I’ve existed under silt and ore
And had never been unburied before. too long verb phrase? (4 word verb)
 
But now a beam, piercing hot.
Scalded flesh replaces rot. interesting image
Gilded shafts dull my sight
until bitter tears mourn the night.
Burrowing blindly was my only will
yet my every muscle stayed deathly still.
 
He unearthed me with a hazel gaze,
a gentle touch and earnest phrase. the importance of being earnest - wilde (best word choice?)
Exposed were my faults and scars.
Fresh air bowed my bony bars. 

Thanks for sharing.  Great concept, being dug up from depression.

[Seanwd98]

I enjoyed the poem alot, and I am new at leaving feedback so take it with a grain of sand:

The poem has great imagery and wonderful word choice, but the meter of the poem is interrupted in a few lines, giving it a slightly choppy feel. This is evident in "The gentle scrape as hands dug". It feels like there needs to be another beat in there, but this may be intentional, so as I said it is only my opinion.

Great work!