Mondays aren’t usually people’s favourite day of the week. They’re muddled with the feelings of slothfulness when begrudging bodies awaken from their weekend benders. But I don’t mind Mondays. For they reset my body clock and remind me what day of the week it is. It’s a time for making plans and organising the week ahead, providing direction when everything seems all but meaningless.
The days go by,
And little catches the attention
Of the slaves to capitalism—
Except maybe that brand-new Rolex.
Eyes glazed over by molasses-like malaise,
They chase their prize on treadmills
Working like dogs for skinny bones
In the workshops of abusive owners.
Every now and again, I find my poetry and prose returning to the roots where it all started, to the likes of T.S. Eliot and his post-modern lens of the world. His works showcase a nihilist vanity as if they were a squalorful reflection of Ecclesiastes. Yet, I still find myself drawn to staring at the darkness more than I care to admit.
It’s not something a sane person does by any means, but I think it helps me gain a better understanding of the world’s brokenness. It’s a grave reminder we all need saving, to which I am no exception.
The past month has been a difficult battle of very few peaks and many deep troughs. There were many days when I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was completely overwhelmed by rampant thoughts, and despair consumed me. It was very lonely. By many accounts, I am considered to be very calm and capable—fearless even.
And I am in no way accustomed to prolonged feelings of fear, despair, betrayal or even resentment. So, for my confidence to be upended in such extreme circumstances was… scary, to say the least.
Where is the marmalade in this modern-day malaise?
In the last two weeks, I have had an adverse reaction to medication, a hospital visit, a minor surgery and at least six needles. And I hate needles. I have lost a lot of blood—enough for me to now be considered iron deficient, and very much need a break. Funnily enough, the last two weeks were probably the happiest I’d been.
It was just nice to know that I didn’t need to ask to be cared for. And after what seemed like endless disappointment in broken promises and unmet needs, it was a welcome change. Now, I don’t even remember what that kind of despair feels like, and I am reminded that feelings do not dictate reality.
And the marmalade is this:
Even during the darkest of days,
When everyone seems to let you down
In the worst of ways,
You are shown love and mercy
In places and people, you least expect it.
Like the warm and orange glow of a glorious setting sun,
He gives us room to grow, run, chase, and make mistakes,
Holding us in a close embrace at the end of the day.
水 