I’ve been there
Down in that murky
Grimy pit called Despair.
I’ve seen all there is
To see of that
Particular brew of
Primordial ooze
And I have struggled
To pull myself out of it.
It wasn’t easy
The miserable lethargy
The cloying nearness of sorrow
Wraps itself around
Your psyche like a warm
Inviting snuggly blanket
It held fast to every pore
It clung to the damp tendrils of my hair …
It saturated my tears
The pungent aroma of misery and sorrow
Wafts through every room
In this special corner of Hell
The god-awful yet inviting stench
That pulled me further and further in
Until I salivated for want of taste
And I ate and ate and ate
Licking dry each saucepan and skillet
Used to prepare my own six-course meal
And there I sat
Repulsed yet fascinated
That I had become
My own Sin Eater …
Magnetized by the ‘pretty’ fare
Laid out around the darkness
Of my soul
Needing to take the pain away, yet knowing better
But unable to stop feasting
Yet again at this personal banquet of
Misery, of sorrow of subjugation
And desperation.
I’ve been there
In that repellent kitchen
Where the chefs are
Mirror images of self
Where guests believe themselves
To be in the shadow realm
Yet was I sickeningly comfortable
The kind of comfort that
Is uncomfortable in its ability to
Strangely soothe
The bell tolled then
And I painfully and slowly rose
To my feet – forcing myself away
From the table
Realizing only then that
I was sated but unable to stop myself
Though stop I needed to
And so … I did
But, yes, I’ve been there
I’ve cooked in hell’s kitchen
And I know the darkness of that pit
I know the stench
Of self imposed misery and melancholy
And this is not a comprehension of which
I am proud
I have abashedly licked the pots clean
While I have navigated the quagmire
Of my feelings, and beliefs…
Look at my skin, look at my soul and
See my battle scars …
Yes
I’ve been there
But now … I’ve returned
And I am stronger for the journey…
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