The Stage

Mental Health, Relationships , ,

Everyone talks about when the lights go up,

but not after they’ve gone down.

When the lights are up,

I am me – loudly.

I am me – boldly.

I am me – under a spotlight.

I am being judged, watched, approved or unapproved.


But when the lights go down,

it is just me.

The theater empties

and the stage welcomes me back

to its warmth

to its acceptance.


When the lights go down,

I am just me – quietly, wholly, acceptingly.

I lie in the center of the stage,

spread out flat on my back,

warmed by the past friction

of feet moving.


I am reminded of all the moments

of warmth and acceptance here

– and also of being the outsider.

Of his hand touching mine

in the security of the dark,

of eyes searching eyes

for meaning and understanding.


There is depth in the darkness.

There is safety, anonymity.


People give me roses, hugs..

but there is only one I am searching for,

hoping is there,

watching from behind the dark veil

of the light.


He is!

It is only now I understand what he gave up

to be there.

Is it love? Approval?

No…perhaps understanding,

understanding of the meaning to me.


Years later,

he will be absent

on a day much more important.

And his absence will be noticed.


The darkness is different here,

not safe, not warm.

The darkness is not home,

is not him,

is not love or understanding.


The darkness is all-encompassing.

I can’t see him,

but feel him there,

watching, waiting…

waiting for when I ask for light.

But he has no light to give any longer.

I have no light to share.


I am darkness.

He understands,

but the lights don’t go up


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