Grabbing darkness to me,
low and heavy, velvet and sweet,
mourning through pills as if
they can cure society or the
ills originating inside of me.
There are hordes of gargoyles
crowding the medication, climbing
the walls like ivy, blocking
my tears and sustaining me.
A laurel crown of distinction,
for every hopeful function,
that others take for granted.
Deep as falling, gargoyles
watch, adorable and frightening.
Silently taking in my ascent
and descent, don’t lose
touch with sadness, grieving
is an emotional touchstone.
It is the process of knowing
and facing up to suffering.
Not everyone can be saved
on time or can afford the
necessary dime, so grab
the peace, the depth, be
wise, trust the process and
this same darkness may
help you to understand
the expected and unaccepted.
Grabbing darkness because I
cannot cry anymore, feeling
my way through a life that
demands detachment and
courage, the weeping wreck
is gone, I am no longer so
over-sensitive.
I want to feel and heal, infuse
emotions into my recovery,
so many places to lay down
and die but I can’t, although
I’ve tried. Just as an anchor
grounds a ship on restless
water so I’ve been mired
in circumstance, I cannot
rise, struggle as I might.
Take me down to your darkest
places and I will lend you my
gargoyles. I will wait on a
whisper as I’ve done most of
my life. Say come and I will
know this darkness is more
then an isolated black hole,
shared by all, like the sun.
Everyone recognises what bright
light disguises and knows the truth.
There is a deep repository
of understanding when you
enter the silence and it can
wreak spiritual violence.
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