The Darkness Stirs

The Darkness Stirs …

The Darkness Stirs

I think of loss as the pinnacle of empathy

The tears flowing that descend as coping tools,

as the soul’s windows well and pool in dewy symmetry

The heart pumps violence, and sates sympathy with fuel.


With mechanisms of defense and understanding

that mingle with effort to rise in the morning

I face this monster head on, without abandon,

Without the understanding of the Lord’s calling


The sands of time curved slowly down the hourglass

Each second away from her was a lifetime without hue

Out of bed I dragged myself, this lifeless carcass

And put my flyblown suit on to face the truth


With early rain, the glower of the street lamps mocked.

The raindrop shadows on the dash, like tears, returned.

Numbness atrophied to weak flesh, and in latent shock,

The car felt like it drove itself and made each turn.


The sadness of the rain had earned my serenity,

It was calming yet reminded me it was ok to cry.

A sweet solace in the embrace of others, was mere brevity,

And the road unmarked by my feet was hard to abide.


How quick the florists were, to cash in on my pain,

The etchers and engravers, they were soon to follow

The priest spoke of poetry, in verse sweet like sugar canes

while migraines had grown strong, and my chest was feeling hollow.


Their words were so kind, though spoken in past tenses,

Like her face wasn’t the first thing my mind saw each morning

They pumped her with formaldehyde and passed her sentence,

And slowly my drought had ended as tears kept on forming


Laying with her riddled mind, was the grief of solitude,

And the susurration that swept through me in a gentle wind.

Her voice in cacophonous tremors, haunting the interlude,

My words fumbling in ineptitude as her spotlight dimmed


With shallow hugs, her distant family joined to grieve

My heart left bereaving through her bleached existence

No reprieves for me, knowing that she was a thief

My heart reluctant to commit to this subsistence—


Late at night, when dreams should come, the crux of darkness stirs

It finds me as a willing host, as it fosters doubt

As it cultivates my demise, how it claims to succor

in my time of need, where only despair will sprout.


Pew to pew are filled in, with whispers in the air

The detritus of this shattered soul left to float free.

Hopeless, I’m wanting, craving to cling to her somewhere,

Yet I wait in sadness to hear some vacuous apology.


My heart forgoes the austere purpose of beating

And yields to a melancholy miasma

With thoughts towards oblivion and smiles retreating,

My soul pursues importance, and yet has none.


How our story was just memories, distant synapses,

And once the earth entombed her, my sun promptly set—

I was trapped in darkness as the ebon influx happened

In three piece fabric consuming anger and regrets—


my brain emphatically tapped in, feeding once more

this time devouring the broken pieces of my soul

the lifeless forms they’ve assumed, the innards of my core

how she took them from me, as she left herself so cold.


So I endured, through the sadness, through the pain

My hands storing these illusory pebbles of glass

From the spire she stuck through my chest, and sapped my veins,

depriving me of every good thing that we’ve amassed.

Paul Neglia
Latest posts by Paul Neglia (see all)

Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

10 thoughts on “The Darkness Stirs

  • January 27, 2019 at 10:39 PM

    Very strong emotional phrasing reaching out to your reader, Paul. Your works are classic, timeless, reminiscent of past masters of poetry and I always look forward to reading. Well done indeed.

    • January 28, 2019 at 10:42 AM

      Thank you so much Phyllis. I’m glad you enjoyed this and am flattered for the comparison. Much appreciation.

  • January 28, 2019 at 3:26 PM

    Death , crushing when we’re looking down the road at it , so painful in it’s presence , so numbing as it turns , and so relieving when it passes …………in time at least .
    Nice writing Paul.

    • January 28, 2019 at 4:49 PM

      Thanks Ed. Yeah death is that inevitable journey we know we all must face. But when it comes too early, it feels like you’ve been robbed. Like anything it too shall pass but it will take time. Thank you for your kind words.

  • January 30, 2019 at 7:54 PM

    Fantastic write and most emotional and passionate write. When death comes suddenly it feels like a stranglehold is placed on you and you can hardly breathe.

    • February 1, 2019 at 5:58 AM

      Thank you so much Rasma. It is like a stranglehold. Sometimes it feels like it will never go away. Thank you for your kind words

  • January 31, 2019 at 10:56 PM

    A heartbreaking lament, Paul. But, so beautifully written as always. they say “time heals”…sometimes I don’t agree with that statement, as I still miss loved ones as much now as ever. Take care.

    • February 1, 2019 at 6:00 AM

      Thank you so much John. You are right, time is not the healer of all wounds. I miss my loved ones so much as well. It’s like when people say “come to terms with,” yeah I haven’t come to terms with them being gone either. Thank you so much for your kind words.

    • February 3, 2019 at 4:31 AM

      Jamie, thank you so much for your kind words, I’m glad you were able to connect with this and understand it.

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