The Black Dog

 

Title.

The Black Dog.

(A tired voice whispers)

It was 3 years ago that I first saw it in my long mirror.

A black dog watching in the shadows.

Then 6 months later, in full view but at a distance. Watching.

Now four years later, it's my best friend.

He follows me everywhere. Sleeps beside me, and lately I can hear him talking.

Talking about my father and about his end.

I went to see Old Shala, and she read my aura and said I was being stalked by a Lylak. 

She asked if I had lost anyone. I said my wife, and she said depression had opened a portal, and it had gotten closer and closer.

So with her permission we had a ceremony. Candles, incantations, and incense.

 Looking in her long mirror, I sensed and watched my only friend leave my side with sad heavy eyes, and slowly move away to the shadows.

When it was in the shadows, the mirror was suddenly broken, trapping it, and another thing happened, which I cannot say to this day.

I paid and left.

Now back alone. 

I still see its red eyes in the dark.

Everywhere in my now empty home 

Shall I call it out?

That old friend of mine or ring up my real friends?

(C) Copyright John Duffy

This poem is about:

Grief after losing a spouse.

Depression becoming identity.

The danger of romanticizing pain.

The loneliness that follows healing.

It does not glorify the darkness—it shows how seductive and persistent it can be.

The voice is reflective, aware, and conflicted. That self-awareness is what separates this from despair and turns it into literature.

For depression doesn’t vanish cleanly. Even after treatment or ritual:

Traces remain.

Fear of relapse lingers.

Familiar pain still “looks back” at you.

If you're feeling depressed, talk to someone. It will make all the difference. Try never to face anything alone. Salute.

Image shared under fair usage policy.