Tag Archives: darkness

Repairs

Standard

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

Standard

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?

Deeper Under

Standard

Saturday night and I’m alone.
I used to have a husband
and we used to live together
with our two children…
I used to have a family.

I try not to retell the story
of how you made the choice
to break our family apart,
and share your heart
and bed with someone else.
But the pain is real,
and the grief surges up inside me
like a wave
and suddenly I’m drowning.
A drowning person
can’t think logically…
they’re fighting for survival.
All they want is a breath of air.
Just like this,
I cannot think my way out
of the grief that drowns me.
I’m thrashing about inside myself
looking for land,
trying to catch my breath,
but there’s no land,
and there’s no breath,
and I’m sinking deeper,
deeper under.

Confessions

Standard

I drank some wine tonight…
specifically to alter my mood.
I was feeling anxious
and exhausted from enduring
the difficult feelings.
I wanted them to change.
I want to escape these feelings.
I wonder why I had children.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t.
I wish I could run away.
My children are the only reason
I’m still here in this part of the world.
I’ve thought about leaving this planet
many times this past year.
I’ve had more thoughts like these
since the holiday season has arrived.
The anger is back and so is the depression.
I wonder how long I can make it
feeling like this.
I don’t want to have to take pills.
I want to lick this on my own.
But it is licking me.
I’m angry at life.
Then I feel guilty for feeling angry.
Then I’m ashamed that I haven’t
fixed my life by now.
I keep working to improve myself,
but the deeper I dig
the more faults I discover.
Why did I start digging in the first place?
I could go on forever,
but you probably wouldn’t read this,
and your reading this is one of the only reasons
I’m writing this.
I thought this was for me,
but really it’s because I long to be seen
and heard and understood.
Thanks for listening.

Faith, Hope, a​n​d Memory

Standard

In the dark of the year
my soul goes into hiding
and I want to sleep
until the light returns.
And yet I must keep going.
There are children to feed
and students to teach
and this body to bathe and clothe
and lungs that need to breathe.
My mind seeks comfort,
the safety of one who understands.
There is no one here besides me,
and the loneliness engulfs
like the encroaching darkness.
And then, faith.
And then, hope.
And then, the memory
that I’ve made it through this before.