darkness

All posts tagged darkness

Four Windows.

Published November 25, 2018 by April Fox

It just occurred to me that my house only has four windows in the entire place. That’s fewer than I had in my bedroom at the last place I lived. And I started to post something about it, basically like what the fuck guys, no wonder I’m in a funk… and then I thought about how that often leads folks to a presumption of ingratitude, wherein an acknowledgement of something that makes you sad is dismissed because look at all these other things that SHOULDN’T make you sad, and why can’t you just shove this heavy thing out of the way to give yourself a better view of the things we think are pretty? And that leads to the remembrance of all the times that people have said, not to me necessarily but just thrown out on social media, that either you are in complete control of your own happiness and are making a decision to be depressed because there is ALWAYS a bright side or that depression is some sort of noble badge you get to wear as a result of having weathered so many of life’s metaphorical storms with strength and grace, and both of those are of course utter bullshit.

Sadness is acute, and you are allowed to have that even when other things don’t make you sad. And depression is pervasive; it gets deep into your head and the reality is that sometimes you cannot see the good and sometimes there really isn’t any good (I swear if you tell me it’s good to just be breathing I will wish a swarm of yellowjackets upon your netherparts) and it’s not about where you’ve been, it’s not a sign of strength or weakness or malignant character, it simply IS. And sometimes there is help, and sometimes you just need to live in that. Sometimes you just need to have acknowledged that yes, there really aren’t enough windows in this place. Tomorrow I will get up and go to work and continue to find joy in many things, but for right this minute, in the midst of all the Christmas lights and joyful kids and central heat and air, let me please be sad about this thing, and let that be okay.

Lost Dogs

Published August 6, 2015 by April Fox

This feels empty

as if the dogs have all gone home

and left us to our own devices,

on our own to deal with the

monsters and the maniacs

hiding in the shadows

and even with the lights all on,

the television blaring comedy and news into our deconstructed brains,

there is a silence and a darkness

that the hounds have left behind.

And in the stillness, after locking all the doors

and silencing the ringers and clicking off the TV

and shuttering the windows, and pulling down the blinds

in the air we’re left to breathe

we find our solace

and remorse.

Drawing Lines

Published May 19, 2015 by April Fox

I am drawing lines

on the dark

in silver sparkle markers and fluorescent yellow

crayons, dragging brushes through the stories

that I took too long to tell,

painting I am not

the end of this

all over everything. 

I am not, have never been

the pounding heart, the arms and legs 

gone numb

have never been the broken parts

the bruises

not the fear, or the locking out

the speeding cars

the screaming in my ears till I went deaf

and dumb

and stupid

I am not a thing made of

your sick and ugly pieces. 

I am painting over

everything.

I am sitting in the dark

looking out

drawing all the stories

that I thought I’d never tell. 

  
 

Like Icarus

Published December 10, 2014 by April Fox

When you are tired and alone
in that vast and empty darkness that refuses
to take hold and steal your last breath
even though you’d give it freely
for the chance to feel some peace
They will tell you
there’s a light that you can turn on
if you try
They will say that there’s a light
to guide you out
and you can see them in the distance
insects circling with rough and tattered wings
careening off each other
stupid, blind and insignificant
fighting for the chance to fall like
Icarus.

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