Survived another Christmas
Survived another Christmas
Don’t know what IT is.
Each year IT rises
like a deep shadow
that creeps up
to swallow me.
I say: I don’t see you
and it laughs.
I say: I will ignore you
and it sneers.
I close my eyes
and it crawls under my eyelids and grins.
So
I relent.
I summon what armour
I can think of.
I know
I have to make it
about myself.
That’s how
to beat the shadow.
The shadow
I don’t understand.
I say: I banish you
and it laughs.
I say: I have survived you before
and it sneers.
I close my eyes
and it tries to crawl under my eyelids.
But this time
I win.
You win? It says.
Where is your family?
Where are your loved ones?
Where is your home?
Where do you belong?
Nowhere.
Nowhere.
Nowhere.
Nowhere.
I say: I despise you
and it laughs.
I say: I will ignore you
and it sneers.
I close my eyes
and it crawls under my eyelids and grins.
How can a single day
bring this much pain?
And why?
Because someone liked fir trees
with candles
and sweets?
Because someone decided
to call this a day to come home
to be, to belong?
It’s a story.
No more than that.
A story.
But if so
What has turned this day
into something
I dread?
It doesn’t matter.
I have to face it,
manifest the shield
by caring for myself
by loving myself
by belonging to myself.
And with every little treat
every bit of care
every morsel of love
the shadow shrinks.
I say: You vanish.
and its laughter stumbles.
I say: You aren’t real.
and it tries to sneer.
I close my eyes firmly
and I am
on my own.
My eyes are heavy
from the fight.
They flicker
with the candlelight.
But I am not alone
I am my own.
Love is mine
to give
to myself.
I lie down
and close my eyes
and whisper into the night:
I survived.
I survived.
I am alive.
@ Charlie Alice Raya, book 3/2, shaping, 2024