Desperate Times, Normal Measures – A Poem

Eclipses decorate her flesh in a myriad mess

of alluring urges and sorrowful representation

of sadness and denial – suppression she says –

and painfully visceral confrontation.

Disproportionate coping mechanisms

and trickling stains and raindrops

without an umbrella or a bandage

or any real predisposition to stop.

What is life, when life is black,

when light is only darkness,

when happiness is only fleeting,

or non-existent, and harshness

is a safety blanket keeping me warm.

It’s the sad truth of this chronic condition,

these desperate measures in normal times have become

normal measures during desperate times.

I’m a plant taking root: a proposition

that I cannot grow without light,

no more than I can without water,

but there are no tears like flooding night.

If my mind were a pool, then the ocean

is an abyss to explore, an escape,

temporary or permanent or otherwise,

soothing waves and an attempt to abate

these thoughts that constantly batter

the ship of my body, bones of my soul,

heart-rigging, and panic-ridden chest.

Don’t follow me, but bring a torch to crawl

by, out of tunnels of sadness, and into

an empty household, bereft of loving kindness.