Press of Darkness

A Sunday Poem

Hi friends,

What a week, right? What a week. Alas, here we are- stopping for a moment to read a poem, to remember that there is beauty in the darkness. That’s no small thing. The remembering is going to be the thing that carries us all through this.

I’m so grateful to everyone who takes time to participate in this burgeoning community. Thank you for taking the time to comment and restack and recommend- I will do everything in my power to respond to each and every one of you, because you are my candles, and I’m mesmerized by your light. And to the quiet readers out there- I see you, too. Thank you for being here in the beautiful shadows.

Kendall

Press of Darkness

Wrapped around your body

I try to hold your heart together

I try to keep your ghost inside your skin

by pressing my hands against

your heaving chest

but I can feel you seeping through my fingers

your grief a liquid, uncontainable thing.

…

I think about the time I stood up in the tub,

when the blood rushed out of me

and I clutched the space between my legs

and thought to scoop it up and put it back inside,

but I just stood there and watched it swirl away.

…

I think about the lovers in Pompeii,

the two young men

who clutched each other as Mount Vesuvius rained

ash upon them

and I imagine them bathed in light,

even as the darkness fell.

…

I think about how honeybees

sometimes sleep inside bright yellow

squash blossoms

and if you peel back the petals, gently,

you can see that they are holding hands.

…

I wish that I could put you inside a flower

and bathe you in light

to keep you from swirling away from me—

but sometimes the press of darkness

is the only thing holding

these fragile seams together,

so I will be the gravity

that anchors you through the night.

Photo by Max Saeling on Unsplash