New Soul

March 2, 2013

In the half-light born,
a brand new soul
to a dying world.
Shadows over soft blue eyes,
looking to a future
no one chose.
Once,
such events were celebrated:
a fresh-lit flame,
a beacon of love,
a bundle of joy.
But this is a changed world.
One in which new parents
feel only apologetic–
where birth is mourned,
and death yearned for.

Evan struggled every day
to see the good in anything;
no matter where life took him to,
his mind would paint the shadows in.

Any seed of happiness
his fortune planted in his head,
his dark thoughts nurtured carefully
until the wonted demons hatched.

Day by day he spiraled down
into a hole he dug himself;
a pitch-black prison with no key;
a hell of his own construction.

Then, one day he realized
a key existed after all,
that it was he who’d locked the door
and only he could open it.

Evan found a blue balloon,
the brightest blue you ever saw,
like summer skies and mama’s pie,
and started blowing into it.

Every breath he breathed into
the great big blue balloon, it grew
and with each blow, he got rid of
another troubling thought as well.

Every time from that day on
that Evan had a negative
or dark disturbing thought in mind,
he blew it into his balloon.

Now, he saw the world anew,
a place to love and to enjoy.
Eventually the love and joy
crept in and shone a light inside.

Shadows faded, darkness fled
and Evan’s thoughts were changed for good.
He let go of that blue balloon
and watched his troubles float away.

x. The Edge

July 22, 2011

Sitting at the edge of emotion,
the tension before it snaps.
Crack
The sweet release of suicide
calling, teasing like a siren
in the stormy seas of my misery.
That moment when the blur clears
and it all makes sense –
like this is the only answer,
like this has been it all along.

Standing at the precipice of eternity.
The seconds before the darkness
disappears
and there is only light, divine.
The soft lullaby of death
entices me into endless slumber,
beckoning me to the painlessness of forever.

Kneeling at the feet of God,
exhausted from praying and waiting;
silence.
This time not asking but telling
choosing my own destiny,
taking my life in my own hands.
No more supplication, pleading
for delivery – no more.

Lying in the corner of the room,
feeling the life crawl out of me –
dreadful
Not a soft and gentle transcendence
but a harsh and unforgiving wrench
from the world of the living.
Not like slipping silently into dreams
but jerking roughly into the cacophony of hell.
Sick to my stomach now,
retching and twitching,
screaming as the darkness closes in.
Finally, the realization that this was not the answer;
the acceptance of my own stupidity;
the knowledge that it is too late;
the guilt.

vii. Darkness Deep

July 14, 2011

Soft moonlight skips across her face,
sets shadows dancing, giving chase
to darkness deep within her eyes.

A single look can give no clue
to what exactly she’s been through;
such darkness deep within her eyes.

Late night, no other passenger
but him and her, a prisoner
of darkness deep within her eyes.

He casts a smile across the breach
to see if he can’t somehow reach
through darkness deep within her eyes.

Her face shows not the faintest sign
of recognition, rendered blind
by darkness deep within her eyes.

It looks as though she has been wrenched
from consciousness, her mind entrenched
in darkness deep within her eyes.

As he steps off, a final look
tells him without a doubt, she’s stuck
with darkness deep within her eyes.

Her happiness has been enslaved
he knows that she will not be saved
from darkness deep within her eyes.

xxvi. Climbing Back

April 18, 2011

Sometimes,
the easiest thing to do is to just let go;
let your fingers loosen;
let your grip undo;
let yourself… fall.

Sometimes,
The darkness down below is so much more comforting
than the light above.
The sun rises –
the sun falls
but the darkness is constant.

Sometimes,
in the dark you can feel so at one with yourself,
when in the light
you feel alone,
you feel lost.
In the dark there is no alone; there is nothing.

Sometimes,
the path just feels too long no matter how far you have come.
In the dark,
there is nowhere to go,
nothing to look back on,
only the moment and eternity as one.

Sometimes,
the darkness is a place to go to leave the world behind,
to catch your breath,
to bear up,
to get back on your feet,
so that you are ready to face the light again.

Sometimes,
the darkness is the only place that you can feel strong
but do not let the darkness become your home;
find the strength
to climb back
for the light is life and the dark is a hellish place once your eyes adjust.

 

 

Originally written for the @PoetsHereandNow forum, linked here.

i. Rain City

March 4, 2011

Above them glowed a golden sun,
The first they’d seen of it in years.

The people gazed up at the sky,
At something they had long forgot;

For so long, rain was all they’d known;
The rain defined their lives; The rain,
Had been the only thing they could,
Depend upon. From morning right,
Through every day, the rain came down.

There were a few among them who,
Had been around before the rain,
But none remembered how it felt,
The rain had washed those days away.

For all the rest, the sun was new,
An alien come from the grey;
That soft grey safety blanket they,
Had been wrapped up in right from birth.
And now that blanket had been snatched!

Exposed, they stared up at the sun;
It stung their eyes and burned their skin;

They soon all ran for cover from,
This stranger in the sky. And this,
This scramble for the shade was what,
Sparked memories for that small few,
The few that had survived this long.

They suddenly remembered how,
They too had run for shelter when,
The rain began to fall. There was,
A time when they had hidden from,
The rain; A time when they had missed,
The sun… And now it had returned,
To grant them warmth once more.

But how were they to tell the rest,
Who loved the rain, and loved the dark,
The clouds it cast above, the grey,
It painted in their sky, the cold,
It’s blanket wrapped them in. How could,
They ever understand that this,

This brightness, boldness, heat, was good?
A thing for them to bask in, not,
A thing to fear; A thing to set,
Them free from dreary servitude;
A thing to light their way; A source
Of vibrant joy. The light it cast,
Could rid them of the apathy,
The rain had filled them with; Could help,
Them live again, if only they,
Could see the truth. But fear of change,
Impeded them – Their fear, it made,
Them yearn for rain, for what they knew,
And when the sun persisted, they,
Rose up as one and put up walls,
To block its light; To keep its heat,
At bay, to claw their blanket back.

Eventually, the elders passed,
’til none remained from days before,
The rain. No, none were left to teach,
The rest to leave the shade and trust,
The sun. And thus, they stayed inside,
For good and raised their young the same.

The sun burned on, up in the sky,
But none who lived there let its light,
Shine on their lives; they never felt,
It’s warmth upon their skin again.

They never knew the joy the sun,
Could bring; They never felt the sense,
Of freedom that it promised them.

 

 

Inspired by the title of the song, ‘Rain City‘, by Turin Brakes.

xiii. Inside

January 16, 2011

He remembers the colour of happier times;
The feeling of joy and celebration.
He remembers when life was easier;
When his days were filled with laughter.

It’s been a long time since those days,
And now he is a broken man.
There’s not much left of who he was;
It faded into blackness long ago.

Now and then the light leaks in.
A smile might catch him off guard,
And he thinks of when he used to smile,
But there’s nothing for the light to shine on anymore.

All that’s left of him is an empty shell,
Encasing a bitter and a fragile world,
Home to years of stunted growth,
Where rust and slow decay reign.

It has been dark for far too long,
And nothing has survived of the man,
But a barren landscape starved of love –
Cold and dry; Dead and empty.

The people outside wouldn’t know.
He’s strong; he never let’s it show,
But if anybody cared to look into his eyes,
They’d see only emptiness.

No one ever gets close enough anyway.
It’s been so long since they have;
So long since he’s let anyone near,
And so long since he’s felt human.

Now, he doesn’t know what he is.
He knows what it means to be human.
He still remembers what it was like,
But he just can’t feel anything anymore.

In that way, he sometimes thinks he’s lucky.
The shadows stifled his laughter, yes,
But they also killed his sadness, his anger;
Everything he ever felt has long since gone.

So now he floats around this world,
Keeping the world inside him hidden.
The world of destruction that he carries,
This is the world where he really lives.

A vast landscape that stretches on forever,
With nothing on the horizon but a dark halo,
Where everything that once made him who he was,
Slowly crumbles and turns to dust.

Chilling winds whistle around the wastes of his soul,
And carry only more emptiness on their squall,
Seeking any last vestiges of lingering life,
And eroding anything they find in the desert they have left.

But still he walks among the rest of us,
His beating heart the only way in which he is alive;
The shadows across his face, a mere glimpse,
Of the endless darkness he has within.