Despair

June 96

The joy felt, this I have known.
Also have I known fear, love and loathing,
yet this familiar friend does visit too often;
Despair, I know you.
One thousand times I have counted the scars
upon my soul,
weeping over the wounds that stil ooze blood 
onto pale flesh,
and berating the self that cannot heal.
I know you.
One thousand times before I have listed my regrets,
pouring tears upon my mistakes,
wailing my anguish to the dark night that cannot care,
will not care,
and shaking my head at the pain I have dealt
time and again.
I know you.
One thousand times I've delved into my anguish,
hiding myself from those that could heal,
who could touch me with gentle, caring, hands,
rending myself incurable ~~ yet needing the cure,
and bruising my soul intentionally
for I could not be worthy of happiness.
Yes, despair, I know you too well,
for long have I partaken of your wailing feasts,
gorging myself on the anguish 
that filled me to bursting,
fearing, yet needing, your revolting fare
of gore-encrusted heartache.
Despair, you have sustained me over long years,
silencing the fury that boiled,
placing an apathetic facade over 
the wrathful self-condemnation,
and building, building, the walls and defenses.
Yes, I've created this fortress about my being,
so skillfully that they've become ingrained 
and unsurpassable,
but now, within my desolate palace of solitude,
I'm suffocating.
Let me love and smile and laugh,
without calculating the price of the joy,
without honing the proficiencies of my impersonations.
Let me revel in
the first fumbling kiss,
the bated breath of anticipation,
the glow of new love.
Despair I know you.
One thousand times before I have knelt 
at your merciless alter,
laying down my soul as atonement
for sins created in youthful pain,
but my debt has been paid,
and I am weary to my soul of paying your price.
Despair, let me go.


© 1997, 1998 Tara Tambollio

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