I do not pray for enlightenment
Sometimes I only want to hide
in the shadows
Sometimes the darkness feels
Darkness is not always dangerous
not always the pit, the labyrinth,
Darkness can be the covers
pulled over your head
the dim room where a movie glows
on a solitary screen
To be in the light means
Every flaw, every freckle, every nuance
My thick ankles and my thinning hair
my depression and my anxiety
the stretch marks on my skin
dust gathered on my bookshelves
decades of anger pooled like lava
in my gut
fingernails shredded, teeth clenched
for feelings I dared not speak
How can I expose all this
to the light
How can the gods shine into me,
thick mortal flesh, thick mortal feelings,
wading up to my knees, my hips
in the sludge of mundane life?
And yet they seek to. They seek
to shine in me.
I have not asked for this.
Only let me hide under the covers,
walk unnoticed through the alley,
eat cold cereal and take a hot shower
and then go back to bed.
To descend into the darkness, yes,
that can be frightening.
But so can rising, exposed,
into the light.