The Monster

Dove Arthur Dark Abstraction 1917

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I lie in the dark, trying to be peaceful, quiet, still.  The clamor of my thoughts momentarily drowns out other sounds.  But as the stillness around me settles in, I hear it.

There’s something moving about in the darkness, behind the wall.

I know what it is.  Behind the wall is a door, and behind the door is a monster.

Some doors should not be opened.  Some doors, when opened, unleash unspeakable things.  Pandora learned too late, as I suppose we all do.

This monster has long been returned to its cell, locked behind the door where it belongs.  Over that, the wall I constructed continues to stand.  And all this time, while I have walked in the light, there has not been so much as the slightest sound behind the wall.  Left to starve, I thought it would surely have died by now.

But perhaps such things can live forever, having even once tasted freedom.  Perhaps it has simply hibernated in the face of my imposed winter.

I would like to think that I have become stronger, less susceptible to its destructive power.  I would like to think it can be tamed, controlled.  I would like to think so, but instead I hear it, awake and moving, and I am afraid.

I know it is of the darkness, and I suddenly and desperately long for the light.  I am tempted almost beyond bearing to run for safety, to return to a place of comfort, where there was no fear.  I want to return to a place where I was whole, where the darkness had no foothold, where the monster had no power.

But though my growing panic makes me want to return to that place, I know I can’t do that, either.

This is my own fault. I once allowed this door to be open.  And now I find myself in the midst of something that is so reminiscent of that time.  I recognize this strangely sensual mix of fear and trust, that makes my heart open to dark and dangerous places.

I know that to live in those places carries a terrible price.  I know that the monster has the power to control me, to hurt me.

Worse, I know that I have been capable of willingly submitting to its control and accepting all the damage that goes with that… and I feel a strange longing to do just that.

The monster moves in the dark, and I know that I have let the darkness in, and awakened it from its slumber.

The monster moves in the dark, and I have no faith in my ability to tame this beast, nor trust in these flimsy barriers to contain it.

The monster moves in the dark, and I am afraid that it will escape and take over, and leave me in ruins.

The monster moves in the dark, and I am afraid that I will succumb and set it free.

There is a monster in the darkness, and I am afraid.

I lie in the dark and cry in fear.


~ by lorakceel on May 25, 2011.

One Response to “The Monster”

  1. Very creative. Poetic.

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