Poetry by Caitlin Mundy

            ​barbara w CC



Thank you for turning out the light

When you left, you took the light with you, 
               put drapes over the stars,
                               collected the fireflies 
               in brown paper bags, 
extinguished the fires 
                               that made our love glow. 
You unscrewed the lightbulbs 
               from all of my lamps, 
                               took your hammer and smashed them 
                                               into a million pieces,
               leaving the sharp edges to cut gashes in my flesh.

You left me bleeding in the dark, 
              licking wounds 
                                             in places 
                             I didn’t know I had.
             Thank you, 
                             for helping me find them.

For breaking me open
so I could rearrange my pieces,

               for teaching me to kiss
               myself better.

Thank you for turning off the light 
on your way out. 

The darkness was the friend 
I didn’t know I needed, 

and she showed me that, when I’m ready, 
I can turn the light back on, 

all on my own.





​Ode to My Loneliness 

that’s creeping behind me at every corner,
sidestepping its way through the shadows, waiting 

for the next person to leave me, or me to leave them,
for that soul crushing moment of disconnect 

when you’re sitting with a friend and realize you don’t feel 
like it would be okay to say what’s on your mind, 

in case it makes them uncomfortable, 
in case it changes something between you.

Or you say the thing that has been eating you 
up inside and they brush past it like you mentioned 

the weather. Ode to this monster, stalking behind
me with claws of wondering what the point of life is anyway 

and fangs that draw tears so fierce I almost forget 
how to breathe. Ode to my teacher, my tough lover, 

my secret weapon. Ode to my loneliness because it makes me
strong enough to carry my own pain, shows me I don’t need anything 

I don’t already have inside. It brings out the worst in me, yes,
but behind the worst of me stands the best of me. My loneliness lets me see 

the whole of me, the human of me, the triumphs and kindnesses gently wrapping
my mistakes and failures. Ode to my loneliness is an ode to opening 

the door to loving myself, to knowing I can be my own best
friend. An ode to my only companion as I drive across the country, 

to the voice whispering to me on those long nights alone in my car 
“who is here for you? No one else is around,” 

but making sure to clearly enunciate the else. Else as in no one else but me. Else as in I 
am here. Else as in I count. Ode to inside jokes for myself, singing in the car 

at full volume, laughing when no one else is around. Ode to the solitude
that teaches me there won’t always be someone else coming to save the day 

but shows me how to wear my own cape. Ode to my loneliness
for tucking me in at night, for making sure I’m not alone.​


​

Caitlin is a Canadian poet, traveller, and recent graduate of mathematics. In the summers you can find her planting trees in the north, and dreaming up new adventures to have. Check out her instagram @caitlin.mundy.  

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