Jonah Days

The black bell tolls the death knell

It rings in formless tones the fatal word

Of power and fear and helpless drowning

It gives me its ominous name "Overwhelmed".

The white page is vast with empty hope

Uncertainty of life and dreams that press pale

Like a giant whale about to swallow me whole

Though I am not yet running... to or fro.

But I want to run. To hide myself away alone, my fear

Of alone, to block out both the black and white

Not to risk the taming and giving of the wild things

Not to risk the tears and grief and failure.

They will come. They always do. I  know

I bleed red when cut by life's sharp shards

My legs buckle against my will and I fall

And on the way down I wait for the pain.

But then, there I am carpet-faced and crying,

and from there I can see, and seeing, I have hope.

The gong is not for me, the page is not a void.

I can see the palace, and I am not alone.