Nobody
Are you nobody, too?
― Emily Dickinson
On a radio,
Playing lovely music
In the background.
My ghosts and I
Don’t want to be noticed.
We want to be porous
Dark and invisible as night rain,
Black leaves in a rain barrel
Floating down
From a crown of trees;
Black as a classical piano
Black as the keys,
Black as the notes
On a staff
Or words on a page,
Blacker than autumn nights
More desolate than these.
Blacker than gone
When the Moon’s
Behind clouds
And there’s only the sea.
oh dear, just as you write this, the scientists announce they have just discovered (accidentally) a new black, the blackest of all blacks up to now. I'm waiting to see what they call it so that it can be used in my writing.
It may be the times. I know Leonard Cohen's writing got very dark just before his death. We are living through a very cynical period
The darker and more cynical the times, the more I admire those who have the strenth to remain positive.
Well, I struggle with that - I hate injustice - I get depressed when I see others being oppressed - and sometimes I get depressed with my own moments of insensitivity. As Big Daddy says in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, the human animal is a selfish beast. It's hard to get past that sometimes.