Hopeless Prayer to an Absent God
Remembering a Dark Night of the Soul
I turned away from you, as you knew I would turn……………………….. ……….away from you, knew the solid sense……………………………… ………………of knowing you would rip away like a linen……………….. …sheet torn from day to night, shorn from a clothesline where, ..……… ……………………….standing right under it, feeling the sudden……….. ………………violent wind, .……………………………………………….. ………………the sheet now punishing my eardrums, breaking…………. …free,..………………………………………………………………………. ………………………….a darkness conquering blue noon sky…….….…. ………………like an anti-flash, I wept…………………………….……….
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Nothing is supernatural any more… The feeling…………………………… …………spun over my breast by Hollywood aliens is no…….……….…… …………………..superstitious lore, but known fiction from……………… …a known source, not science, but science would understand…………… …………………..the numbers if it measured the anxiety, ..………………. ………………………………which it could do… What it will never do…… …………………………………………….is address the creeping thing…... …………by name………………..……………………………………………
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Your name does not howl in the wind………………………………………. ………….Your absence does not name the creeping thing……………….. …………………..The creeping thing will not come fully into view………. ………………………………..…………even after I let go my cape,..…….. …clenching against the gale in this forest or city………………………….. …………………………………………..I cannot tell where I am………….. …in the rushing moonlight…………………………………………………. …………………..without you……………………………………………….
Many poets will tell you to not interpret your own poem, especially on the same page. Well, let them hide their own wisdom.
This poem comes closer to expressing the feelings I remember from “depression” than anything else I have written. As the title suggests, it addresses God.
Claiming that depression is a set of symptoms is like saying chess is a collection of carved ivory trinkets. The description is not wrong. It simply lacks nuance.
Fun fact… As I started writing this poem Sunday, Alexa followed my command to fill the room with Tibetan monks chanting. Gongs too.