Outside the sun smiles brightly,
But I am dark.
Light filters mockingly into the room,
But I am in pain.
The room is whitened by the glowing rays,
My room is darkened by despair.
Snatches of sunlight appear on the tops of the chairs:
On the chairs in my world the devil sits.
The sun brings light and heat and rules this world,
Fear and deprivation rule mine.
This great yellow ball brings love and happiness,
Red flames are my only light.
Where others are loved,
I am scorned,
Where others are warm,
I am cold,
Where others are found,
I am lost.
This is the contrast.

Are you hearing me?
I'm not sure I ever see me.
At moments like this words seem so very empty,
Ringing around the empty halls,
Bouncing off the walls,
Echoing my soul,
Killing me like the ghost I already am.

The hill pulls me backwards;
My legs ache, I can go on no further,
But somehow there is the energy to retreat,
As I fall victim to gravity, and tumble, run and spiral back to where I began.

Except, this time, I begin again in more pain than before,
More broken, less able to climb.
The hill looks bigger, much more daunting,
And my mind screams at me to stay put.

But isn't life about conquering hills,
Whatever the gravity of our reality is,
Regardless of how gravity wants to chain us down,
Pull us back to our point of supposed no return?

Maybe the aches, the pain, the sense of despair;
Maybe that's just part of the game,
And it's not those with the strongest legs who reach the top,
But those with the strength to simply go again.

I love travelling,
Journeying afar,
Not broadening my mind, per se,
But broadening my inner log of miles travelled,
Giving me stories to tell the friends I hope to have,
The friends I dream of as I sit alone in distant hotel rooms,
Ordering meals for one,
Praying for somebody to see me.

I could spew words,
But they don't mean a thing;
Not in this worst moment of pain.
All I can do is hug my children tighter tonight,
Count my blessings,
All the while mourning yours.
But is the chill that runs through me a selfish grief?
A need to express myself, to relate my own fears to your loss?
Not a gift, not to ease your pain,
But to try in vain to understand my own?
I don't feel lucky, I feel guilty,
Because it's so close to home right now,
And it reminds you just how precarious life is,
How precious,
Yet how dictated by forces beyond our control.
My god, I am sorry for your loss.

I try not to dread meeting you there,
But the harder I look in the mirror the less I want to leave.
I want to stay, make bread, howl at the moon,
Anything but face the one I've hurt,
And yet I know I'm coming for you.

But will you hurt me back?
Use this opportunity to surrender your own hurt,
And make peace by breaking mine?
I gave up that life so long ago,
But you're here, now, and that life is mine again.

How far do I go?
Far enough to gain the energy to run from you into the distance,
Or just to your door?
Who will be there?
You, them... God, us?
Will I find us there?