The Darkest Song

A darker strain of music came to visit my world;

I tried everything I could to block the sound that felt like an assault upon my soul.

I didn’t want to hear the notes that pierced me and stirred shadows I thought no longer

hungered for my attention.

And yet the dissonant sound continued to haunt my nights.

The sheets on my bed bore testament to these nightly struggles,

In the morning they resembled the tattered masts of a ship caught in a wild storm.

I would hum to myself on nights like these;

Like a child walking past a graveyard hoping to scare the ghosts away.

The dark song started to follow me through the days;

Dogging my steps, seemingly so much taller than any shadow I could cast by my mere

physical presence.

It would screech loudly at me demanding to be heard.

I threw things at the shadows it cast.

It didn’t care.

I grew incredibly weary fighting the shadows,

Trying to block the deafening din of a song that terrified me to my core.

So eventually I stopped and just listened, too tired to do anything else except surrender.

Something shifted;

What has once seemed unintelligible to me in all of that discord gradually started to

make sense.

All that I had hidden,

All that I had disowned within myself,

Came to rest within my ears.

I sat there with my song and listened to the words,

And gradually started to make peace with what I had created.

Dinner with the Shadows

The shadows are entering the room;

They have finally been provided with an invitation to sit at the table.

I am a nervous host,

Anxious and curious at the same time about how this feast may go.

And it is a feast that will be served,

As some of the shadows seated at my table appear ravenous to be heard and seen.

So, this feast demands that I am an attentive and obliging host,

And although I have invited them willingly to sit with me and dine,

I still carry the slight apprehension that they may be ungracious in their appetites and

devour me instead.

Nonetheless here we sit all together,

Resembling enemies who have much in common and now take tentative steps to call a

truce.

The conversation begins hesitantly at first and despite the nervous glances between my

shadowy guests and their nervous host,

It is clear there is goodwill on both sides.

The feast progresses well into the night, the conversation at times,

Moves between heated debate, genuine humour and at times tears,

Although none of those that fall are bitter.

The night finally ends for my guests and myself;

The sunlight filters through the uncurtained window,

And I watch my guests disappear one by one feeling sated by the night’s repast,

And the knowledge we shall dine again.