Finding Beauty in Darkness

I have put a lot of thought into my blog for this week. I have written it, and re-written it, and re-written it again. However, for some reason, nothing seemed to make sense to me. I like to explore big perspectives in mundane things, but recently, my brain has felt cloudy and dark, and it has been difficult for me to observe things outside of what lies in the depths of my own head. This is why, this week, I decided to take a different approach. The idea began in the form of a poem:

 

twisted ivory casts crisp white shadows onto the palms of your eyes.

i hold them in your twisted vision, reading irises like bones, like lines, like future,

glimpsing into the present pool of your pupils, grasping, ghastly,

onto the reflection of any beautiful hue.

it doesn’t make sense, does it?

 

thighs like skyscrapers turn into mummies as i look;

i wrap them gently and take your femurs to my flesh,

and i cut out my liver and feed it to your dead teeth

so that you might not be hungry in the afterlife.

it doesn’t make sense, does it?

 

your neck cracks in symphonies, knuckles cracking heavy down,

cracking my brittle bones, cracking heart, cracking up

because this is all so ridiculous, isn’t it? cracking eggs to make

breakfast in the morning before I crack your skull –

it doesn’t make sense, does it?

 

if i let you take my neck to your tongue, to your teeth,

and you pulled the blood from my arteries, it would

make up for the time i spent cremating your

flammable soul—dust particles from dead skin.

it doesn’t make sense, does it?

 

if you let me take your organs out and bleach them white

and dye them the colors of the funeral flowers,

i would grow a garden and bake you cookies in return, and we could be

all sweet and colorful again because that’s how life works, isn’t it?

it doesn’t make sense, does it?

 

my brain is bargaining, recoiling from the void that

time sucks from my stomach, stretch marks turning scars back to open gashes –

i make a body from my trauma, a separate person out of the shards of my mirror –

i know i am seeing things, making everything up as i go, but

that doesn’t make sense to you, either,

does it?

 

This poem was a surreal and dramatic expression of things I have been struggling with lately: concept of time, issues with body image, resurfacing memories, and utter disconnection from reality… the list goes on. I usually process this by looking for metaphors in the things around me, but I’ve been stuck in this terrible haze that diminishes my capacity for philosophical thought. It confused me, and this uncertainty was terrifying. Therefore, instead of searching for meaning in analogies of objects/creatures around me to help me deal with a problem, I deduced that in this situation, the clarity lied in the problem itself.

My negative emotions have been obstructing my creativity and damaging my confidence and faith in myself. However, in the end, I wrote that poem, didn’t I? I’ve written this blog, haven’t I? I have gotten out of bed every morning, brushed my teeth, eaten, gone to class… so really, I have not failed at anything. In fact, I’ve turned this cloud of darkness into something that I think is beautiful: growth.

Every single person in the entire world will inevitably experience a darkness. You will, too, if you haven’t already. If you can’t seem to look at anything else – whether it be cricket, cat, beetle, or bench – then I advise you to stare straight into your darkness. Face it with all the audacity you can muster, and realize that you are not only separate from it, but you also have power over it. You can turn it into whatever you want to turn it into. It is not inescapable, and it will not destroy you – not if you don’t let it. So use your darkness as an opportunity to grow, and know that you have the capability to still be and create beauty.