By: Georgia Porter
April 6, 2004
For Mitchell, who watches over me
It is known by other names but I call it simply: The Darkness
It creeps in slowly, all but unnoticed.
Carefully biding its time, waiting for an unguarded moment,
and knowing full well the moment will come.
I watch, wait, deny, dread...knowing that against The Darkness
I am powerless.
My weapons are weak, although upgraded weekly.
All armor long since discarded in disgust at its ineffectiveness.
We are old foes , The Darkness and I.
The steps of our dance well choreographed.
Each knowing the steps the other will take....
helpless to change the pattern.
The Watchman sits nearby as he always does.
Watching me silently...observing The Darkness warily.
His eyes are bright with pain and unshed tears, his mouth set in a hard, firm line,
his body tense, primed for the battle he knows is ahead.
Seeing his obvious distress I bid him , "Leave, Begone,
You are freed from your painful watch."
He says nothing to this and watches more faithfully,
as The Darkness begins to battle in earnest.
I fight on as always, bravely at first...
Laughing at the pitiful attempts to lure me deeper and closer to The Darkness.
Then as the battle rages, I fight with waning strength...I am a mere soul
against a powerful force of evil.
With labored breath, I concede defeat and give myself up to The Darkness.
Yet again, I hear the victorious shout of the conquering villain
as the waves of pain wash over me.
The Darkness moves to claim me as victim and my body and soul as prize.
Total consumption of body, mind and spirit is the only thing that sates
the evil hunger that lives within The Darkness.
With but a moment to spare, I feel the cool firm touch of The Watchman's hands
on my fevered flesh.
He has sat through the terrible battle and now is his time to act.
He pulls with all his strength...forcing me back and away from the evil
and The Darkness and towards The Light glowing above.
The Darkness thus robbed of his prize, retreats vanquished.
I lay there in the arms of The Watchman, quiet now.
He says, in his quiet guarded way, "Sleep now, my love.
You are overtired. Rest. I will keep watch this night.
The Darkness will come no more this day."
I murmur my thanks and look up at his eyes now grown bright ...
the pain of his dutiful watch now tempered with mercy and care, but not a trace of pity
for the battle that I alone must wage.
Understanding dawns and breaks open within me. This is The Light, and the shelter
I have been seeking,
At last, I I sleep peacefully in The Light of The Watchman's love.