Here come the Dark Days for me. I know they are there. The under lying depression; the monetary stress and the forced joy.
I’ve got stressors, you’ve got stressors, all God’s children got STRESSORS.
So I wrote a poem about it.
‘Tis Holiday Seasonal Disorder Time
The sun sets sooner
The feelings dredge deeper
The scars resurface and the pain twinges in my head
These are the months of forced happiness and joy
Of family and money and abundance
For those who have it
Serving only as a reminder
a staple in my foreskin
That I have none of these.
Happiness, family or joy
My echoing dwelling
reminds me I am alone
each sound resonates its hallow presence.
Time for forced smiles or selfies
Gifts wrapped in debt and
Tables overflowing with meals slaved over in hot kitchens
For stressful family gatherings of suppressed anger.
Snow falls and we smile
Childhood memories of snowmen glint in our eyes.
While shovels full of the stuff
Pull our back muscles to spasms of pain.
Gee, this poems a downer
Where is the Joy of the Season?
Where is baby Jesus?
Where is my Xanax?
The Dark Days approach
And the sun sets sooner
And the food is abundant
And gluttony is king.