Blanket of Twilight

Some days are heavy enough to sit inside. This piece is my way of naming the weight – and the small flicker of looking toward tomorrow.

Blanket of Twilight

There are days that make you want to sit in it.

To feel the immensity of simply being alive.

To let a blanket of twilight drape your shoulders in mourning.

Days when we cue the sad playlist, already down.

To feel the one emotion that always shows up.

Days when our old friend despair comes to stay awhile,

and we do not resist but languish within.

Despair becomes almost a recipe,

paired easily with sorrow…

because every good chef knows:

what grows together goes together.

Days like this are a slow-cooked Thanksgiving turkey.

You know it will come out dry, flavorless,

yet we roast anyway in an oven of despair,

basted with depression as delicacy.

I know nothing is ever accomplished this way.

And yet, I gravitate toward the same habits.

Loss has become a blanket I swaddle myself in.

Tears mix with my lemonade,

no salt needed for taste…

so syrupy sweet with honeyed lies,

dripped straight into my veins.

I write with lived experience as lens,

as my candle’s wick dwindles above waxed flame.

Too sorrowful to move forward,

too weary to remain still.

So I stay.

Familiar with the melody..

the same song,

sung on repeat.

Still as I am here,

I look to the Son,

In tomorrow’s skies.