Member Poem

Plainest Light

For the particularly lonely, the pain occurs when we close the bedroom door so that no one
but ourselves can see where our mind takes us as we close our eyelids, like curtains,
shading from the sun’s plainest light—which would only set ablaze our hidden feelings 
     
     like a beacon on a frozen mountain…hoping that an eagle (or an angel) might spot us from above—

     but we avoid fantasizing about such saviors for too long,
     for never has there been a savior who was ever that strong. 

Instead, reality dims into an after-thought—the beacon’s warmth melts like wax and glazes over our hearts,
turning them to sculptures of the lovable selves we’ve yearned to have become...a centerpiece on a fountain,
smiling in a manner that feels like an arrow to the neck—

what words of affirmation would spill from our throats for an idolized version of ourselves:

Parents will love you,
Siblings will love you,
  Friends will love you,
   Lovers will fuck you (and love you),

Employers will bow to you,
Work will serve you,
  Co-workers will admire you,
   Purpose will bless you,

Parents will
Siblings will
Friends will
Lovers will
Employers will
Work will
Co-workers will
Purpose will

Wills are written by those who wish to give a part of themselves to those they cherish deeply
(before passing). 

For the particularly lonely… “wills” mean the opposite—a wishing well, where they can throw coins of imagination at their idolized selves. 

What an expensive use of time! 

Still, how they shiver so bitterly next to that beacon, 
atop that frozen peak—where all they could speak is “I wish…I wish…” 
when really, their greatest wish has already been granted—
that they do not wish to be seen in
plainest light.