There Flows a Darkness

A bitter, dark lament of the terror of growing old alone.

There flows a darkness, born of fear--

cold, malignant, and thick with loneliness.

 

Grief percolates, brewing desperation

for loving arms, safe and strong,

that will never hold me again.

 

Mired in chilling, black, molten tar of terror--

ravenous, ever-growing, feasting

on dead dreams and steady streams

of loss, despair, fragility, and futility.

 

Forgotten or forgetting--which is worse?

 

Abandonment--you are my history;

are you my destiny, or simply self-fulfilling prophecy?

You're a relentless, suffocating muck

that brings perpetual dread to my soul.

Frantic attempts at escape have proven

that every path leads right straight back to you.

           

The sinking shadow spreads, expanding 

from within and from without.

Where bleakest blackness grows

there once flowed love and light,

now a distant, fading memory, like a dream.

 

My fullness, my abundance, forever lost--

whittled and withered away, dispensed

in disposable, single-serve moments.

Returned for deposit.  Rinse and repeat.

Recycled. Reused.

 

My domino effect of failure:

first hope capitulates, then happiness,

as confidence concedes. Death

of identity descends. Everything

I was or ever hoped to be is lost

within the cancer of despair.

 

I survived a lack of love when young;

hope was a powerful enabler.

I endured isolation and rejection,

my stubborn strength, somehow enough.

Upon maternal instincts I stayed afloat,

as my eyes kept sight on someday.

But older now, with eyes pried open,

I find myself paralyzed

by a single savage question:

 

What will become of me, now?

 

Who will be there when I fall

to tell me everything's alright?

Who will hold me in their arms

when it gets chilly in the night?

Who will share my sunset days

when my home's an empty nest?

Who will hold my hand

when I someday lay my mom to rest?

Who'll still see the younger me inside

when I've turned wrinkled, old and gray?

Who will reassure my fears

when life’s tragedies come my way?

 

Upon whose loving strength will I depend

when my life draws near its final end?

 

There flows a darkness, born of fear--

cold, malignant, and thick with loneliness.

Reviews

[Hannah]

Beautiful. I love the rhythm in the end, I feel like everything before it is describing how this last part really feels to the author. I know these feeling wells. The words you used brought tears to my eyes because I know what it feels like to want these things and fear that I'm never going to have them. I specifically love the line, "Who will see the younger me inside when I've turned wrinkled, old and gray?" People say to just give it time, that someone will come along. But how much time? How will I know when he's here? What if I miss him? You really hit the nail on the head with this poem. I love it when I can feel the emotion of the author when I'm reading poetry, it's something I can relate to. Beautifully done.

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave such detailed and heart-felt feedback. "How much time," indeed! And starting over after failure is harder than it sounds, I think, and moreso as we age. I so appreciate your words and that you can so deeply relate. Thank you again.

[Lauriegirl]

This is a wonderfully crafted piece

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave feedback. :)

[Matching Socks]

Incredibly moving piece you've penned.
Full of so much emotion.

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave feedback. :)

[Matching Socks]

You're welcome. :)

[micky]

Wonderful piece I enjoyed it as I felt every emotion :p

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave feedback. :)

[hardeep sabharwal]

A nice and touchy poem though so sad tone, well done dear

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave feedback. :)

[R Smith]

Beautiful but very sad, you went through a well of suffering to bring this to our eyes and your end is sublime, it is a perfect poem, I see no laws at all and one for my library, thank you for this.

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave such heart-felt feedback. I am honored to be in your library. Thank you!

[R Smith]

You are very welcome :)

[Botania]

An introspective query that probes continued loneliness, but answers do exist.

[Ashfallen]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to leave feedback. Answers may exist, but they are certainly not simple!