On the Down Side

At first it was only a shadow
light as air, barely felt
a drift of smoke
I could see through
a grey moment
sure to pass, to lift like fog,
peeling away like the thin
translucent skin
over a blister
a temporary measure
allowing small injuries
a place to heal.
But I was caught fast, stuck,
tangled up in a black mood,
a sticky web,
dangerous as Isadora’s
fatal scarf,
a spreading darkness
clinging to me,
blocking sight, choking speech,
numbing taste and touch,
until it stopped me dead,

silent and lost, unreachable,
beneath this thick blanket
of unspeakable grief.