Where others might draw wonder or see splendor,
I see the rise of a dark blanket…
A harbinger of another day
of fear and gnashing struggle.
The dark is kind, though…
In it I can wrap myself and embrace the numbness
That lasts, and tastes, sweet– like the touch of a lover true;
And feel within it’s wings
Safety and serenity…for only a time.
Then dawn comes screaming into my life,
And brings with it such bright chaos and anguish;
Cutting me again and again and again
Like shards of glass made of sunlight—
Oh, to prop myself up to fight through another day…
Like a cadaver who has forgotten it’s home on the slab
I trudge through a blaring, screeching existence;
Every nerve afire with raw, white, scraping—
Trying to shuffle towards the close
Of one day…..and it’s unwelcome sunset.
At least the wings will be dark and warm again.