Darker Days Poem by Justin Dowler

As the dark storm ambles painfully closer toward its familiar residence deep beneath the cage, even more desperation is revealed in the detail,

Haunting memories conjured of grandparents' terrifying dark, unkept garage. Secrets lurk among randomly created crevices among the shadows. Transformed by each drop of sunlight that sneaks past the darkness to reveal the endless memories not-so-carefully tucked away.

Standing in painful meekness facing the arduous and terrifying task of imposing not only order, but manufacturing comfort amid the cluttered cocophony of disregard. Evidence the tea kettle with a broken handle masking from view the dusty film revealing clues from a distant childhood.

Frantically scouring the landscape for valuables among the swirling clouds of memories, all hidden….some treasured, In theory, the seemingly futile searching gently slides into belief as gratifyingly as a frozen hand finds a warm glove,

In practice, it is thrust upon the stance, no longer capable of discerning good from bad or kind from evil. Patience has simply become the mercy, for at this point, it is all that exists is as it appears, clearly discernible among the mayhem.