The Warmth of Our Darkness
Struggle, scream, surrender. Dragging my feet against the floor, irresistible gravity begs me to crash down to dust. Brain, breath, & breast barely moving, forceful rise and fall, carbon dioxide alarm sirens going off like The Bells in my Madwoman’s attic. Yet I find hope in home, in blankets and couches and music, in removing the cloth from my face at all, in removing my façade at all. I am alive. I am healthy. I am alive. I am healthy. I am alive. I am healthy. I return to my hole-in-the-wall refuge to be one with self, and with you. Together we say, Fare poorly, prison of pandemic, of public, of panic. In the warmth of our darkness there is no New Normal— there is only normal, love and comfort, a kindness I do not deserve.
