Ready for the Dawn
You wake up and brush aside the lying demons of the night.
You put each one in their box for their diurnal course.
They rattle around a bit, but they know the drill,
and soon enough they are dozing. Done for the day.
At times, they put up a fight, like a child at bedtime,
but you do not wear their scars for nothing,
as long as you remain strong, or surround yourself with strength,
it is not much of a battle. Most days, you win.
And you laugh, yourself like a child
who has learned a new skill, once hard,
now simple as standing. You laugh that it was once so hard,
and today you have muscles of faith and understanding,
strong as swords. All you need
is the courage to wield them
in that moment when you are surrounded, outgunned
by madness. A short burst of consciousness
and you are ready for the dawn,
when darkness turns to light.
About this poem
I realize that sometimes it might appear I am a dreary depressed soul, constantly in battle for my own soul and mind. Nothing could be further from the truth.
The truth is that my depression is hardest in the morning. And I write in the morning. So it takes on an over-arching place in my writing that simply is not true. Writing about it is in a way, part of the morning exorcism. A way of trash-talking my depression, saying “Take that! You’ll never defeat me.” and doing a touchdown dance as I begin my day.
It may not seem that way, but it is.