Two Dark Poems
THE LIVING DEAD
The night was dark not just dark but dark and painful, scary painful.
The air fell like a heavy blanket over my soul, not just my soul but my soul and heart. The stars were not in sight, nor the moon , nor any light, life was quiet, the wind was the only sound and it was fierce, love was hate, dark was cold, the night was angry.
I was angry, too.
I was angry at the dark for smothering the light, my light, the light that symbolized my life.
Just as the dark overcame the light, so it overcame my life.
It ended in a siege of never ending pain, letting me suffer only enough, to see only so much.
Only enough to let me continue breathing in pain, in sorrow in anger, in hurt.
A never ending circle of one smothering the other, light and dark, life and death.
The realization of my death had not yet sunk in and sitting in front of my grave was something I had never dreamed.
The dark shadow moves through the bushes under the street lamp, and a sigh rustles the trees taking the smell of burning cedar with it. But as I turn from the open window, the breeze of a summer night suddenly blows the single candle on the window ledge out. I slowly turn to the mirror next to the window and from the street light see myself in a different way. The shadows and light reflecting upon the mirrors changes the images. From the mirror’s view of the inside of me I see someone who is scared intelligent and beautiful. Like a bud of a flower in the first spring not quite ready to open but holding strong to the potential. However the mirror which hangs on my wall which views from within the view that I myself see in my heart and soul, of a naïve, open but unattractive person. Just a real person who says quietly for reassurance, “My time will come to play in the spring flowers and summer sun” and I slowly turn back to the window. A hush falls over my immediate world and all that is heard is the striking of a lonely match relighting the single candle on the ledge. Brightening my world only a little more.