Thick and black.
Covers up the choices she shouldn’t make.
But, the choice is still made.
The light brings only shame.
Darkness is good?
This is scoffingly rejected.
Darkness is positive?
No, darkness is when the demons come.
The dark air is filled with condemning voices, angry voices, feelings of deep despair.
Hour after hour.
Relentless bruising is done to her soul.
The darkness is so deep it begins to suffocate.
She begs for help.
At first, it cannot be heard over the cacophony of dark.
But then, a whisper.
No light comes, just soft words gently spoken.
The grotesque shame still shouts.
Her ear tunes into the whisper.
She wonders… who is I?
The whisper comes again.
She tunes in harder to the Voice.
A minuscule shift happens.
The demons quiet the tiniest bit.
She thinks, ‘Is this relief? Is there a different way to be in the darkness?’
She realizes she feels sleepy for the first time in a long time.
She wraps her arms around that whisper like a well loved teddy bear.
Without the deep darkness, there would be no need for the whisper.