Shadow, Awakened
Many aren’t ever afraid of shadows for good reason —
They’re blank reflections, mirrored images in black.
But what if I told you I had a special spirit with a whisper
Able to conjure that which the darkest shades lack?
As if Pan had a curse, only deeper still, and often escapes
Into the frivolous night, out of sight and waiting to see
What victims walk, unknowing of the witches and wights
Beckoning the call of my dark half set free.
No staples, tape, or glue on my shoe to keep him tied to me.
Just the morning after when I check the news on the TV
And see what the awakened has done in shade,
Hideous like Hyde, except only one could say imaginary.
I tried everything: locking doors and windows,
Keeping lights on to ward off the doppelganger’s domain
And surrounding myself with vibrant colors of disdain
To scare away the pitch that latches onto my pain.
Nothing helps. I close my eyes, and he splits from my soul,
and I’m not whole, leaving an emptiness beneath the bellows
Bestowed of my cold fingerprint for the police to discover
And yet I thought I never was part of a murder of crows.
Thus investigating murderous massacres with glee —
Knowing that while I sleep, I therefore still see the shadow perfectly.
And when he does go on that callous killing spree,
I ask: am I in fact the real dark awakened harbinger? Maybe I am he….
