Perhaps there are 100,000 forms of darkness,
of what they call depression.
I know one
or two of them.
There is no suffering scale, no way to compare
the suffering of one
or one illness
So we hold candlelight vigils
build totems to gather the universe and pull
back clarity around one another’s edges
But I can't burn sage inside me.
It may attract the bad you hide from. Or
is it the good that scares you?
The world beyond the bond
of hearts is a town
A dull inhumanity of systems failing the people
we don’t look at.
In this way the brittle tethers of association are tested.
Hand in hand greeting the blackening sky, bearing
down like the face of a missing child’s parents,
staring at one another
knuckles clasp tight.
Your smile the remaining mirror at the end of the world.
If you were here, or I there
I’d be home right now. On the inside
we’re both waiting for one
Because I’m the same,
I am ruthlessly forgetful.
Names, birthdays, work schedules.
But I know the way your hair looks in motion.
The way your face looks
refracted through a cigarette ember.
How when your mood shifts,
the church in your eyes
becomes torn, battered, and bare.
If we could just give
It would be different,
Where you are, might
be, may go.
When it used to feel so good.