In the Dark

Frequent power cutoffs have been happening in my area, around 11 - 12 p.m.


It is suffocating in the dark,
with only candlelight to guide your thoughts.
And good poetry to get you by,
till they decide to let it shine once again.


So I've been catching up on poetry, of all things,
and this one is rather poignant,
illuminated by candlelight,
because it tells of love gained and love lost,
leaving night as her last companion.




"A second time to have him near again,
The paper image to lay against her heart,
The way she laid his letters till they grew warm
And seemed to giver her warmth like a live skin,
But it is she who is paper now; warmed by no one."

-Sylvia Plath 'Widow'

If the cutoffs continue,
I might just devour all my poetry,
Which is good in one way,
but bad in another.