Thursday, October 02, 2008

It's the fall; it's always the fall. The days start getting shorter, night starts at 7 pm and suddenly I have to squeeze in runs rather than taking them at a leisurely pace anytime during the long afternoon and evening. Sweatshirts come out, then jackets; jeans come into regular rotation. Apple cider appears in the stores, then Halloween candy. In Ithaca, there would be 30 kinds of apples at Wegman's. Here I go to Schnuck's and because I'm being frugal I buy the 3.99 bag of baby galas. But along with fall, inevitably, comes a depression. Even when I'm taking all the drugs I'm supposed to, using the SAD light like I'm supposed to, downing my flaxseed oil and calcium (to help with PMS, supposedly--there have been double blinded randomized studies, OK?). Late in September, early in October, it falls on me like a bag of bricks. Since I can't do an interpretive dance on screen, I'll put up the verbal version: a poem, to try to describe (kind of) what this period of the year feels like. It's titled "In Tenebris;" Tenebris is a service that's actually held on Good Friday, but for some reason I also associate it with the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels, or Michaelmas, which was on Sept. 29 (like it always is).

In Tenebris

is only Latin for
"in shadow"--yet any
scholar who could call it "only"
Would not be a member of the tribe
who truly knows its depths;
dust-scented sighs,
the last smoked guttering
as a candle dies:
A January night
without a moon
or stars.
I know it, and I know
you know it too,
the light and dark and
their incessant wars
in the silent spaces of the brain--
the rain's quiet thrum
on windowpanes which crescendos
to the roar of doom,
the unquiet night
which spawns the wish to die
alone, in shadow,
in one's own bedroom:
I have lived here so long
I can find my way in the dark,
by touch, with no need for eyes;
Inching along the walls and waiting
if not for sun, then for the moon to rise,
though I don't know when.
We have not died.
The light will come again.

1 comment:

Tracy Crowe Jones said...

You know I'm with you - I understand and I'm on your side. Be good to yourself and get in touch with me if you need to. Mine hits in November.