Dark Signs

Yeah, I could see dark signs

A shadow of a storm over the waves

An inky blotch stained against the parchment

The pelt of a black beast crossing the road

But what lay beyond the omens

And the mistakes, the messes

Was a pool of tranquil sunshine

Sunken into a vibrant meadow

A place of warmth and rest

Like Eden come again

But with every dark sign

That apple hung ever lower.

Yeah, I took a bite

Of that forbidden fruit

Because my life must have been too empty

To consider that trap as anything other

Than salvation.

Anything was better

Than that feeling of need

Left unfulfilled; unquenched

That sensation of teetering on the edge

Of breaking.

Yeah, I stumbled; broken down

Shuddered onto the shoulder of the road

Oil leaking onto the pavement

A tire slashed; a window shattered

And no headlights to push back the night.

No one came back

But I’ve learned to be okay with that

I still have my engine; my drive

My power; my agency

It just needs a little helping hand.

Even as vines grow over my limbs

And moss multiplies on my roof

I no longer feel the need to justify my current state

To fear those dark signs as they weave among the crowd.

A beast, an apple

A storm, a blotch

These might be dark signs; temptations or omens

But to me they are another part of life

That I choose to tread.

_______

This is the 18th poem in RE: SURGENCE, a poetry collection by Amanda Starks that shares what it's like to have and fight against mental illness in a free-form, lyrical prose.

Be aware that topics and themes may include suicide, self-harm, and isolation.

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