The Other One

THE OTHER ONE

How can I explain
the hopeless times
of darkness?
Within me,
there is another.
She knows me
all too well.
The other one.
She knows my strengths
and how to defeat them
She knows my fears
and how to play them.
She is sly
like a fox in the night.
The other one.
When the sun shines
out from me,
upon me,
giving golden light
to the world,
she comes.
She takes my hand
and draws me
into a forest of mist
within myself.
The other one.
Within the forest
is a dark cave.
She draws me there,
even though
somewhere I hear
a voice crying
do not go.
A voice
much like my own,
but I can't remember.
In the cave
is a deep black pool.
The waters call me,
drowning the voice
of light.
She leads me
into the water,
the other one.
It weighs down
upon me,
but she assures me,
this is true.
This is the world,
not that light
that seems so
distant now.
The other one
lives here,
in this place
without sunshine,
without caring.
Here, nothing matters,
except emptiness.
Yet sometimes
I think I hear
the voice again.
Who is that?
The voice calls
from so far away.
It calls for me to
reach, just reach
toward the light.
Try, try, try
to reach
just one fingertip
into the light.
Just let the sun
touch you,
it pleads.
The other one
holds my arm,
doesn't want me
to leave.
But each time
I barely
just barely
stretch my hand up
out of the despair,
and feel
the sun's kiss.
And slowly
the waters recede
and the cave opens.
I walk uncertain
out of the mist.
My friends smile
to see me again.
And I will have joy
with them
and with myself.
Until she comes again.
The other one.