The Problem With Darkness

I took this photo on July 4 - the first creative photo I've taken  in several months
I took this photo on July 4 – the first creative photo I’ve taken in several months

 

Darkness settles…

a heavy burden,

a shroud over hope:

the absence of all emotion.

Darkness lies…

taunting whispers,

deafening in my ears:

misery is all there is.

Darkness defies…

disobeys rules of logic,

world turns upside down:

death rules over life.

Darkness distorts…

a faded mirage,

an alternate reality:

coercing me to believe.

The problem with darkness

is that until light streams through,

I accept counterfeit promises:

I’m blind to hope- my sustaining well of truth.

~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-

This poem came to me while cooking dinner this evening.  I’ve limited my posting for several months now.  I am generally a positive person, so this extended period of darkness has taken a toll on me.  Recently though, I’ve started to see some rays of light cutting through the pitch-black.  When not submerged in the overwhelming nothingness, I am able to have moments where I believe that what is now will not always be.  That’s what this poem is:  acknowledging how this darkness has bound me, and being able to recognize that hope is freeing.  I’m not quite “me” yet, but am finally approaching a place where I can write honestly, and yet keep this an encouraging space.

I am woefully behind on reading blogs, but am catching up a little each day.  Thank you so much to everyone who has continued to read my sporadic posts, prayed for me, and have sent ‘good thoughts’ my way.  This darkness would be a lot darker without you 🙂

Low No Expectations

My older son held a crystal in front of me and asked me what I thought of it. It was the tenth rock I’d seen and they all looked fine to me. Then he said he was going to give it to his brother. Before I could say that was nice of him, he added, “this one isn’t as nice as my other one, so he can have it.”

And so my thoughts began…

Dying flowers make me sad...
Dying flowers make me sad…

Giving:

In one way, I can acknowledge that a gift of any kind should be appreciated. But I can’t help but be bothered by this.

First of all, a gift that is knowingly “less than” really isn’t much of a gift- it’s pawning off something that didn’t mean much to you. It’s not a gift of thought or heart; it’s more an act of convenience that serves to make the other person think you are kinder than your intentions are. It’s deception.

Perhaps gifting is an art that must be learned so that we might recognize a gift is more than an object.  I am honored to receive a gift that shows a person pays attention to me and knows the little things that make me smile.

I'll look at the pretty colors, but I won't eat them (except for maybe a couple purple ones!)
I’ll look at the pretty colors, but I won’t eat them (except for maybe a couple purple ones!)

Receiving:

On the other side of that proverbial coin, receiving a gift that is devoid of thought or meaning just leaves me feeling sad and unappreciated; like I’m invisible. It’s worse than not receiving a gift at all.

When presented a gift that is completely not me, I force myself to put on my best gracious smile and say, “thank you.” I hope my smile covers up my hurt because even though I’m devastated inside, I would feel worse if I made the giver feel bad about the gift.

I realize that my expectations sometimes get in the way. I do expect people that know me best to have some idea of who I am and to be able to choose a gift accordingly. Or, if they are still stumped, just write a note; tell me why I matter.

Maybe if I can learn to expect nothing, then I won’t be disappointed. I’m not there yet, but no expectations might be just a gift away.

It Is Done – Poetry and Blog Hiatus

Nature's representation of my life at the moment...
Nature’s representation of my life at the moment…

I just let go-

my last precarious hold

on my final shred

of battered sanity.

My soul sinks low,

 a free-fall plummet

to the depths

of I-don’t-know where.

I’m so alone,

fearful, uncertain-

my anguished prayer

is that misery isn’t forever.

-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~–~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~–~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-

Here is where I usually provide my inspiration for the poem.  About all I can tell you is that I wrote this poem on Saturday after a particularly gut-wrenching event.  I still cry whenever I think about it, which is quite often.    Beyond this, I have to leave you to your own interpretations, as it would reveal too much.  This brings me to the real point of this post…

For almost five years (in March) I’ve posted regularly, at least twice a week, except for maybe a week off here or there.  Circumstances are such that I need to take a longer break.  I don’t know if it will be a matter of weeks or months at this point, but I will be back.  I love this place and it makes me sad to do this, but with what’s going on, I can’t chance posting my emotions “real time.”  I fully intend to fill in some of the details when I’m on “the other side.” Even though I can’t see the other side through the darkness I’m in right now, I expect I will get there.  I don’t know who I’ll be at that point.  God willing, someone stronger.  Maybe more confident, too.

I hope you don’t forget about me during my absence and are willing to get re-acquainted with me when I return.  I have many regular readers that I consider friends and I will miss you!  I will try to do some reading, but may not comment much.  I look forward to the time when I can experience some sort of happiness again and can share it here 🙂

If you are the praying type, I could really use your prayers right now.

JannaT.

Afraid of the Dark

Scary, those things that lurk in the dark...
Scary, those things cloaked in darkness…

I don’t dwell in dark places.

What lurks in the recesses,

the lonely parts

of my mind, frightens

me more than monsters

haunting stuffed closets and

dusty under-beds.

~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-

Inspiration:  I wrote this recently while struggling with the sadness that settles over me at times.  I didn’t have a reason to be anything other than content, which is why this recurring ‘darkness’ gets to me.  I don’t understand it, can’t explain it, and never know how long it will last, which is why I fear it.  I wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find a monster in the closet, but at least I can comprehend that… and would have a chance to beat it into submission 🙂

I hope you have a beautiful Monday.  I’m glad you stopped by today!

Autumn Metaphor

10-27 Leaves

In my head, dreams float in brilliant color.  For blessed moments, I forget

the grey expanse tinted by amber lies. As gravity pulls, I come to

 realize… through the haze, the golds and reds have begun

to slowly curl and die; I see what’s been hidden right

before my eyes. Reality gets thicker; harder

to swallow with the passing of time.

Toughened skin, stiffened

muscles hinder the

turning of my

cheek;

still, I

manage

to bend,

though

I am weak.

Indecision prevails-

of what to do, there is no Absolut.

~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-

It’s kind of been my thing lately to share the inspiration behind my fiction and the meaning behind my poetry. I’m not sure where to begin with this one. Really.

Deep breath. Exhale. This one is partially in code- my inner thoughts intertwined with metaphors that make me feel like my soul isn’t splayed out on the screen. I hate what this is about, but I’m going to break it down anyway. Here goes…

I lose myself in my ideas- my fiction. For a time, when I’m writing short stories, (and working on my novel) I am distracted from things that bother me. The reference to “grey” is me stumbling over things that aren’t black and white- the things that aren’t all good, or all bad.

The “amber lies” refers to a beer bottle I found poking through a trash bag when I dumped some leaves I’d cleaned up into the bin. This bothered me because my husband knows I don’t like him drinking. When drinking, he acts like an idiot (last month, he was removed from a public place for such behavior.) So, it hurt to find that he’s drinking- just not when I’m around.

On the surface, the golds and reds dying refers to the autumn leaves – like those on my maple tree in the photo. What it really means is sometimes I wonder if this is a season; if my life will blossom again, like nature does in the spring.  The next lines refer to the passing of time and the effects of age; specifically being weary from all the years of trying to save him from himself and his heredity.

The ending is me, settled in with my familiar indecision on what to do next. Do I confront him? Pretend I didn’t see it? Do I bother getting angry or just let it go? These questions are all rhetorical in my mind. If things were bad all the time, the decision would be easy. It’s the grey that makes me stay.

The reference to Absolut is a literal play on words.  I found vodka and poured it out… there is no Absolut 🙂

Oh, and the shape of the poem (supposed to be a martini glass) came last.  I like irony.

I hope the poem makes more sense after reading the background behind it. Writing/reading about ‘heavy’ stuff can be awkward and you may shy away from leaving a comment because you don’t know what to write. Let me help – be fun. Be humorous – I love to laugh and won’t be offended by it all.  And I like comments… a lot 🙂

Have a beautiful Monday!