Young Woman in the Darkness

She rests inside the shoebox, 

Just a tiny doll with perfect hair.

The pinafore she wears, pristine.

The lid is on, it's dark in there

But it is also quiet and it's safe

From whom they choose to think she is.

She's in a room with black-out drapes,

Her fetal curl unseen beneath the sheets.

The dryer buzzes in the distance, baby cries.

Why won't they let her sleep in peace?

The darkness used to frighten her

But she is drawn now to it as a lover,

As if disappearing can erase the pain

Of all the plans and expectations of her.

And there are days when darkness lives.

Into her heart and cells and pores it seeps.

None will miss her if her lover takes her

Back to hell to finally set her free.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2022

Note: This was an exercise, the kernel of a thought set down on paper (so to speak) but depression is not something to play around with. Hopelessness and despair are no way to live. There may be a chemical imbalance to be treated with medicine. Sometimes, simply choosing to express gratitude, developing it as a habit, can turn things around. But there is help available -- always. As a Christian, I believe that prayer is an effective first step.

                                                                     

Tunnel Vision

Walls crash, weights crush,

circumstances overwhelm.

Evaporating peace and hope

are just a wisp, then going, going

gone, and all the lights go out

inside the tunnel and it's dank

and dark and silent, but it's

not the silence of a quiet place

you've run to, some place that

you want to go again, with dappled

sunshine on a lake, bees buzzing

at a distance, open book there in your lap.

The tunnel's quiet as a tomb

and all you need, you think,  you crave,

is just a voice. A hand would be

quite nicer, someone guiding,

someone sharing, someone with

a better sense of which way's out,

but just a voice would make the

difference, as a candle dissipates

the night. And so it comes, with

silliness and laughter, and you

actually remember that the gloom

is not your doing, that it's someone

else's tunnel, after all, and you

don't have to stay there, if you'd

rather not. Decide you're done,

and just that quickly, you can leave.

But maybe. Maybe you should

choose to stay awhile, can be

a voice there, maybe be a hand,

reminding someone else there

in the dark that light is just

ahead, around the corner to the right.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015