Suspended in February.
I tried to keep you hidden. I struggled to keep you unobserved. But you slink and hide behind my memories while you lie in wait ready to spring towards me when I least expect it; ready to inflict your insidious treachery and craft on me. You are sly. You are a looming disaster and I thought I had you banished forever beneath the surface of my conscience. You are similar to an iceberg where the majority of your evil lurks unseen underwater.
I may meander aimlessly but sometimes I prefer to walk to the water’s edge. You too, it seems, prefer lurking in the undergrowth at the water’s edge waiting to jump from the blackness to grab me. I proceed with caution through the shadows of your deathly and dank dungeon where you stow your hatred for me. I am in a tangled mess but some insights are worth having.
Cockroaches are devious. They prefer to move about secretly, sometimes in the dark halls of your mind until you finally scream from the madness. I was told that the birth of March heals all wounds but have found that is not the case.
And there you are. You finally came into sight. Suppose you saw or even thought you saw a ghost. Your memory appears through a haze and you intrude once more uninvited, into my awaken moment. How does one go about clearing the ghosts? You are an intruder. You force yourself into my thoughts and like an illness, I have no resistance right now to fight you off.
Your presence is an embarrassing mistake. It is like I am at some elaborate event and I must hide you before you are noticed.
You were suppose to be my friend. I discovered in the hinterlands of the South that was not the case, however; I should thank you because if I hadn’t been introduced to the dark, I would never have an appreciation of the light. And the light becomes a gift. I know you would be so angry to know you actually give me a gift. So you see, you are a dying tree and every time I see a leaf blowing in the wind I think of you and some piece of your shell that fell off. You’re there and then the wind blows and you are no longer there.
Strength is overcoming pain. Beauty is overcoming hatred. And in my struggles and my times of doubt, I look around and love seems to always welcome me.
