Your Darkness Is Welcome Here

What you are about to read is profound. Extremely fucking profound. It’s probably one of the most profound pieces of writing I’ve read in my 34 (I’m not 35 in September, you are) years. I came across it while reading Creatrix: She Who Makes by Lucy H Pearce. It’s written by a lady called Dawn Conlan-Grant.

I’ve tried to find her online because I must, must, must tell her how strongly her words, her poem, has permeated my soul. The line ‘your darkness is welcome here’ has been swirling in my head since I read this piece yesterday. 

I felt empowered after reading it, I felt awakened, I felt beautiful in my wild, insuppressible wyrdness. I still need to process everything that the words below have given to me, and when I do, I’ll write about it again. The poem isn’t punctuated in the book, except for the last line. But I added some full stops because it helped me absorb the humungous power of each line more effectively.

“There are people waiting to hear your truth. People lying stranded on the shores of their desperation. Shaking for you. Aching for you. For your medicine. For the message in your bottle. You have been given a gift. The gift of artistry. Of illuminating the darkness, the mundane and the monotonous. With the beauty of poetry and the grace of rhythm. Your voice is a gift. Use it. It is sacred. It is powerful. It is needed. So unravel the shackles around your throat that choke you into obedience. Into the solitary confinement of your silence. Pick up your pen. Open your mouth. Let the truth pour out. Unclog the coils of interconnection. Your truth is my truth. Your story is my story. Is our shared story. Of our shared humanity. We are all a part of the one beating heart. Of the rhythm of life. And your darkness is so welcome here. So take the pain of rejection, the fear or never fitting in. Toss it into the simmering pot of your wholeness, where your shadow dances into divinity through the light of your soul. Where the juicy fruits of your sexuality climax with the salty pungency of your intensity. And the warm dynamic spices of your deviance bubble and boil with the creamy innocence of your angelic faith. Filling the air with the unique flavour, the aromatic essence of you. Open the windows, darling. Let the world know how exquisite you are in the messy beauty of your authenticity. Because goddammit sweetheart: You. Are. Fucking. Delicious!”

– Dawn Conlan-Grant