Darkness My Old Friend

Interned.

Where do you turn when
you don’t know who you
are, when the jumble of
life closes over your head.

Lives pass over faster, swirl
around my head as fog sets in
and clouds my eyes. I have not
forgotten what was done in the

name of what is right. I fought,
yet could not see where my
blows had landed, for it was
all within my head. The morning

came, and I had lost my hold
on all around me. The fog grew
thicker, my feet sunk into the
sand, and forward motion ceased

to be. Holding. Holding. I waited
for what seemed to be eternity,
and blinked my eyes. Time slowed.
An empty hollow grew within,

filling with a dreaded void, a shell
devoid of feeling, yet causing pain.
This is not the me I wanted to be.
This is all too sudden.

I bow my head, lips and nostrils
beneath the water’s surface, the warmth
of my bath enveloping, releasing.
Do not make me crawl out of here.

Falling.

I know not where this journey leads,
nor what I shall do when I get to the
end of the line, but whatever awaits
for me there, may it not take more

out of my being than I have left
to give. How does one feel full,
when emptiness is the only thing left
within a darkened heart? When can I

return to the surface, the sepia tones
that mark normalcy within the range
of my world? Where is the grace
that was once promised to me? The

priest has left, the doctor as well,
as both have withdrawn for the
night, to ponder my condition. I
rebel, and claw wildly at the shell

of my coffin, at the cold reality
of a concrete floor. As I tumble
towards rock bottom, I release
the last remnants of safety remaining.

Bottom hits, and I alone can look up
from here, a platform to the abyss,
last chance before there is nothing more
to break my fall. I must climb, with

little to nothing supporting me, to where
I can eventually reach out for assistance.
No rope can reach these depths. I hold
the key to my future in my hands now.

Climb.