DARK SPACES/ 2:35am & Other Stories

Dark Spaces/a poem

Crystal Granderson-Reid

A dark space emits loneliness, especially when it is a hollow cavity where love is measured, tallied, debated, and soiled. A place where trust once overflowed. Now, neglect leaves cobwebs in corners, buckling floorboards, cracks and holes, and mold in unexpected places. Though when the sun shines and rain bounces off the rooftop like flees on hot gravel, hope appears.

Light slithers through tiny cracks as "the mood" swells. Inhibition fades. Self-preservation suffers as suppressed urges rise like oil atop vinegar. After the deed occurs, sleep ensues, and bodies separate. A new day emerges while darkness laughs loudly at the deceiving bit of light.

Kind smirks grow on faces. Getting through the day is hard work: avoidance, small talk, hardly talking. High points are few when silence strikes and the world floats by untouched.

Life is sweet out there, in the light. Others holding hands, walking side by side, discussing things. A refreshing image: the picture of persons engaged in human connection. No one person struggling with understanding or attention; no one person a pretender of the elusive united front: a coveted disposition that stands resolute in the face of adversity.

And yet, all it takes is the drop of a hand or the formidable absence of interest for reality to beg otherwise; for exhaustion to stifle reconciliation; for the darkness to prevail.