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It Belongs to Me

by Catherine1956 

Posted: 29 August 2005
Word Count: 143

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Alone in my ice box, looking inward
People staring at me
They simply do not understand

I am cold and lonely, I am in hiding
There is no exit, no doors, no windows
Nothing, just me in my nothingness

I feel safe in my Ice Box
I feel protected from judgments
I feel protected from the world

They sometimes push the Ice Box
From one place to an other
Though I am untouchable

Nobody can take me out of it
I am finally safe, alone and dead
My Ice Box is my coffin

My coffin has become my house
House where I do not have to do anymore
My safe house at last

I am happy dead, no more pain, no more worries
No more demons, they cannot enter the Ice Box
I am free at last
I am happy!

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Comments by other Members

Catherine1956 at 15:07 on 29 August 2005  Report this post
Maybe I am miss-understanding your comments - Are you saying that
poems of darkness should be instead poems of lightness?
I cannot see many lights if any and so for many years due to my illness and writing about my darkness helps me.
Please can you elaborate a little more?
Many thanks and best regards

tinyclanger at 15:16 on 29 August 2005  Report this post
I understand writitng about the darkness...hope that that in itself brings a little light?...

Catherine1956 at 16:50 on 29 August 2005  Report this post
Yes strangly enough it does in a funny sort of way.
Thanks - Catherine

paul53 [for I am he] at 08:29 on 30 August 2005  Report this post
Poems of darkness are nearly always powerful pieces as they are raw, heartfelt, or out near the precipice.
The idea of "writing towards the light" is often no more than the means of drawing in readers. Much as many folk want to understand darkness [being surrounded by it; being seemingly stuck in it] they also want to feel that the poem is about searching for the light-switch or anticipating the sunrise.
If not, the poem can be so insular that it excludes the reader, and rather than being part of a journey, it is a leaf caught in an eddy and going round and round endlessly in the same spot instead of being borne away by the current.
If writing about the darkness helps the inner turmoil, and if that turmoil has in any way conveyed itself to the understanding of other readers, then you have indeed written towards the light.

hayley at 14:25 on 30 August 2005  Report this post
This poem brought to mind the line `The grave's a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace.'
I assume you're suffering from some sort of mental illness. If it's any consolation you must be on the road to recovery because when this sort of illness is at its worst you cannot arrange your thoughts in order to write poetry, or indeed do anything at all. This illnes is also destructive both to yourself and those around you. The rest of us don't want to be in the place you describe. This is in no way a criticism - there's nothing wrong with dark poetry. Syliva Plath did dark very well.

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