Darkness

*** Warning! Do not read when feeling vulnerable to depression! ***
(And don't worry about me now, this was back in the 1980's.)


i sit in darkness,
oppressed and overwhelmed.

am i moving through mud,
that drags at my soul,
that makes me work so hard for each inch i travel?

i cannot see out, but i think it's magic.
others seem to see me,
see me drawing crying swans in my notebook,
a notebook i cannot see, myself.

at night i go to bed, victorious, triumphant!
in the morning i awake, it was all a lie

oh, god, however will i deal with the day,
the long day yet to get through?
i can't face it. i just can't do it.
i don't know how, i don't know why,
i don't remember, i don't have any tools

who am i to think i have anything
that hasn't been sparked in the world
a thousand times or more,
sparked in ways that caught and burned,
not fizzled as mine

when has a spark of mine ever caught,
ever lit someone else,
ever jumped like a signal flame,
echoing along hilltops?

i guess i make it through each day
the end of day arrives, anyway

i must have done something
it doesn't matter very much

it's all dead and gone,
swallowed by the dark