The Light

The night is dark,
The air is still;

Nothing moves at this witching hour.

Not a sound on the pavement,

Nor on the street,

Nor in the houses.

I look from my window —

I see the darkness,                                           
I see the stillness,

I see what others cannot.

The night is still.

The air is still.
Nothing moves.
Not at the witching hour.

I turn my face away

From the window;
I ignore my reflection,
The mirror of my life.

I lie on my back,
looking at the ceiling,

Seeing things that only
I can see.

A drop of water falls —
A leaf rustles —

And a cat scurries —
All these I hear.

I keep silent;
I do not move;
I contemplate the blade
Beside my head,
On my pillow.


I scarcely make a movement
As my eyes examine the fine blade.

A steady knife,

Blade gleaming silver even
In the darkness,
Hilt dark with the night.

This is my knife.
This is my escape —

My release from this hell.

No one can stop me;

No one even knows,

Save me and my demons.

They speak to me now,
Laughing and mocking me,
Saying that I do not dare.

The voice in my head —
She says that I am a coward,
That I am a sissy.

 


I hear her voice everyday

In my head —
Her name is Nox.
She gave herself that name.
I let her keep it.


Nox speaks to me, even now,
As I look at my death; —

"Go on, do it! It awaits you!"

And so I do it,

Spurred on by Nox and
The chattering voices —
Six, seven, eight!
More than that, surely!
They sleep now, at night,
Bt soon they will return.

"Go on, do it!"
They say to me, urging me on.

"It waits for you!"

And so my blood is across
The floor,
The bed,
The sheets,
The wall even.

It runs out from the side
of my neck,

Gushing here and there,
My lifeforce leaving me.

I close my eyes.
I make no sound.
I make no movement.
I let the night embrace me.
I let the witching hour take me.

And, oh, god!
I see the light!
Finally, I see the light!
I see the light!

I see the light —
At this witching hour!