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Poem
TRUE ...

You know not those dark
Places, mine, the dull, black
Chasms that hold a mind
When it's bare - stark and

Keen and cold ... when it's
Left with itself for time
Unquenchable, out of the
Streams of consciousness

And normality, scraped scant
Of thoughts integral ...
Scratching at echos that
Bounce in the caverns of

Complacency, echos of silent
Screams made for their own
Sake. I no longer turn my
Head when the narrow

Stripes of sun rend the
Black ... from the lion under
My bed that terrorized my
Childhood - as real as any

Demon that torments my
Slumbering mind - to the
Spectre, Death, that kept
Me awake at night in my

Youth, grasping my heart
With a terror that would not
Relent its hold ... from the
Wraith, Depression, to its

Twin, Anxiety, that reached
For me as a young man.
Out of the inky depths of
A darkness not before

Known, The Beast gnaws
On me - chews on my dim
Spirit until the crimson
Blood seeps through his

Chiseled teeth, spitting the
Clotted matter in my face
Whenever there are signs
Of brightening on the

Horizon ... he rips through
The flesh of my dreams,
Breaking the bones of
Hope, and sucks clean the

Marrow ... the bleak bane
Of substantive efforts, and
The horrid residue of my
Honest intent and desire.

Don't deny me my demons
And the battles I bring to
Them - it gives me purpose,
It strengthens my resolve,

Whether or not that resolve
Is worthy of your lauds and
Stature ... you know me not,
The deep assaults that have

Been made on my soul and
Physical being that I keep
In my shadow ... there are
Creatures that live there that

You have not seen, whose
Visages are too stark for
Such gracious eyes as yours,
And my love for you would

Never permit them a moment
In the light. But know that
The darkness there is far
More opaque than you know

It to be - far more unforgiving
And horrific ... oh, how I long
For you to know it ALL, for
Your admiration would not

Suffer the rusty blade it does
Now, but would be a glistening
Edge, righteous as any, and
Ever ready to stand devoted

At your side. I am less in your
Eyes because of what I can
Not show you, but if I've EVER
Asked anything of you, please

Trust that I am greater than
What you behold, and know
That my armor, dull and dusty
And aged in the harsh bright

Of the sun, shines clear and
Steadfast and glistening in the
Dark of night, and will, for
You, always stand ready and ...

TRUE.



** FIRST PLACE in the "Never Going To Drag Me Down" Poetry Contest, Julie Rodeheaver, Sponsor. **
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