My Savior Swathed In White

My days begin in Darkness. 

I wake, and I dream of going to sleep. 

I exist, and I dream of being anywhere else.

The Darkness is all consuming. 

He does not yield 

To the strong, 

Or the weak, 

The small, 

Or the big. 

I curl myself in the bottom of 

His treacherous depths,

And I wait for myself. 

I wait for myself to find a way out,

Because I always do. 

Spiraling down, down

Into dark, lonely recesses,

Resembling my mind.

I sit, 

With my hands gripping my shirt, 

Teeth clenched,

Hands weaved through chocolate waves of my hair,

Body and soul, swallowed by Fear.

And, 

My mind 

My mind 

My mind. 

Relentless.

Like a raging sea of never ending water, 

Crashing, crashing against the surf. 

Darkness took me within His cold embrace 

With the illusion of warmth. 

It's better this way.

But Fear and Darkness have never been different. 

I stumbled to Him out of weakness,

And I fought Him out of strength. 

You will not take me. 

I will not let you take me. 

So I stayed. 

In Fear. 

In Darkness. 

Waiting for my heart to find the light. 

My lips are permanently sealed. 

Too much to say, not enough to hear. 

If I thought it would do any good, 

Perhaps I would not be so afraid to speak. 

My words fill me like a balloon,

Rivaling, struggling against water, 

Water that endeavors to escape 

From the dark pools called eyes. 

They squeeze shut. 

If water escapes then there is nothing left.

The water and the words are all I have.

Or I would be

Empty, 

As the Darkness. 

Days pass, 

My body clenched with the strain 

Of keeping everything tight, 

Squeezed in, 

No escape even through my pores. 

Even the pores are clogged shut. 

Sometimes my lips relax into a smile. 

Is the smile real? 

A figment of imagination?

Is it really relaxed? 

Relaxing. 

Whoever heard of such a concept? 

Other days the Darkness closes in. 

I stretch my arms and legs, 

Pushing the boundaries of my tight muscles, 

Only to find myself colliding with walls. 

I pound my fists,

Kick my legs, 

Scream 

Scream 

Scream. 

No one hears a thing. 

It is only my imagination once again. 

Playing tricks on me. 

I am still a ball. 

On the floor. 

My eyes are still closed 

And so is my mouth. 

I have not moved an inch. 

But the Darkness is even 

Bleaker all the same. 

There are no friends 

No family in my residence with Fear. 

No shoulder on which to release 

The raging Beast inside. 

No one who would want to see the Beast anyway. 

The Beast is a terrifying figure. 

Twisted and gnarled 

From being pent up inside. 

So different from my calm facade 

The world knows and doesn't love. 

Love. 

The Beast is unfamiliar with the term. 

It only knows Fear and 

Darkness and 

Tears and 

Words and 

Thoughts and 

Thoughts and 

Thoughts. 

More darkness, blotting the light,

Like ink spilled on a page

Warm hands cannot reach me here.

The Beast has no time for such frivolity as 

Love. 

It feeds on everything that is cruel in this world. 

Laid out like a feast before him, 

Watching humans twist everything that is 

Good and Beautiful. 

But they fear the Beast. 

They cannot have it both ways and yet they 

Do. 

In beams of starlight that grace my mind 

Once in a blue moon, 

I search and search for the soul of Beauty. 

She is crushed and bruised, 

But not broken, 

Never broken, 

No, 

She could never be broken entirely. 

I smear my hands with glue,  

Trying to fuse itself to other fingers, 

And one 

At 

A 

Time 

I seal the cracks in the soul of Beauty. 

I harbor her in my mind, 

The one thing Darkness cannot 

Take from me. 

He is not strong enough 

To take what will never be His. 

Hands in the darkness,

Warm

Reaching, reaching

Where are you?

Beauty is my child and She fills me with courage, 

Sweeping, swooping, tiny waves of courage.

She fuels my words gifting me the power of speech,

Power to use against Fear. 

She trains me, 

Prepares me each day, 

Quenching my thirst for knowledge, 

Bestowing power but never too much. 

For She knows what too much power 

Can become. 

Too much power is a thing to be feared. 

Too much power is Fear,

Darkness,

The Beast. 

We must take the power and 

Spread it to others.

We shall be conquered by Darkness no longer. 

We shall let our silver tears stream down our faces, 

Catch in the folds of our clothes. 

We shall let words flow onto paper,

Like the strokes of a lazy river on a bright Summer’s day. 

We shall smooth the lines in our faces 

That give way to,

Shining, shimmering, bright skin, 

Bright enough to rival the Moon Herself. 

Light,

Sudden in the dark

Drawing me from the bleak,

The cold.

My savior swathed in white tendrils,

I hear you.

Even the Moon will bless us with Her beams,

Her beams, 

Turning up the corners of our mouths, 

Mouths that were once laced with cracks, 

But the light of the Moon, 

Seals and caresses, 

The prettiest of bows. 

Eyes that were squeezed shut for so long, 

Will ease. 

Eyelids sigh in relief as they open, and 

Oh look, 

This is what life is, 

Now we know how it looks, 

How it feels. 

Darkness directs His imposing gaze upon us 

As the Wind lends a hand, 

Swirling and twirling the tendrils of our hair, 

And we level our own gaze of Wrath 

At Darkness, 

Fear, 

The Beast, 

Our Captor. 

Reaching, reaching

I am here.

Fighting, shoving Fear aside,

And we let out a bellow for the ages.

Rays of light caress my skin,

Shooting from within me. 

My Heart 

My Mind 

My Soul 

My Beauty. 

They create rays of brightness, 

Shooting holes in the black, 

In the body of everything that ever made us doubt. 

And we are free. 

I turn to the Beauty within my soul, 

For the soul of Beauty was me all along. 

My savior swathed in white. 

My savior who was me.