Tag Archives: darkness

Better

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I wake up
and something’s different.
I see the sun.
I’m glad to be awake.
I have energy.
I’m excited to start the day.
I make berry salad
for our breakfast;
the kids and I enjoy
these colorful jewels
the earth grew
for our nourishment.
I feel so much love
my heart might burst.
My home is peaceful.
After the kids get on the bus
I come back home.
What is this feeling?
What is different?
And then I realize
I know what this is:
I feel better.

Let Me Know

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Stuck in darkness.
Heavy.
Moving slowly.
Swallowed in a feeling of futility,
hopelessnesss,
waiting for it to end.
What is the solution?
I’ve tried everything I could
and now I’m told
medicine might help.
My feelings are valid.
My circumstances are challenging
and every time I reach out for support
my arms aren’t long enough
and my cries aren’t loud enough;
despite my best efforts to connect
I find myself engulfed
in utter loneliness.
If you’ve never been here before
you might find it hard
to relate to these words.
If you’ve been here before
tell me how you got out.
If you are here now with me,
let me know.
Let me know I’m not alone.

Regardless of What I’m Doing

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A deep and pervading sense of futility,
like things will always be this way,
like I will always feel this way.
Darkness closing in,
suffocating in my loneliness,
counting the minutes
until I can be useful again
in the two roles I currently have:
mother and yoga teacher.
I can see why,
with these painful feelings,
some people become workaholics.
And, I want to get to the place
where I can celebrate the fact of being,
regardless of what I’m doing
and for whom I’m doing it.

Repairs

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I was stumbling around in the dark,
bumping and bashing into things,
tripping, falling, bumbling,
wondering why I had no direction…
Then, I got clear,
found the light,
switched it on and SAW.
I made a mess
when I was crashing around blindly,
and now, in my clarity,
I see there are some repairs to be made.
To myself: It really isn’t all your fault.
To my kids: I’m working on being the patient, loving,
kind, compassionate mother you deserve.
To life: I really am grateful for you,
and I’m sorry if I ever appeared otherwise.
To God: Please just tell me, because I am so dense,
where you want me to go, what you want me to do,
what you want me to say, and to whom.
Let me stay awake now.
Let the light keep shining.

Falling

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Falling into an abyss,
powerless to slow the fall,
grasping for something
to give me a sense of
here, now,
but there’s nothing,
nothing to hold onto.
I look inside,
but the darkness there
is darker than the darkest night.
Everywhere I look
the darkness clouds
this experience of life.
Clearly it’s time for a change…
I can hear you tell me that this is all my fault.
I can hear you blaming me for everything that’s wrong.
And still I miss our togetherness,
the intimate moments we shared,
just for us.
When will this sick mind heal,
this mind that longs for the very thing
that wounded it?
As I continue to fall,
I keep wondering
Will someone eventually catch me?
Will I grow wings and fly?
Will I smash into a million pieces at the bottom?