Howling

by EllieMae

Published September 15, 2026

E - Everyone

In 2026

Comments & reviews · 3
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EllieMae
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Stickied · EllieMae commented Comment · Sep 15

Text version:

Spoiler
My black dog, separated from birth.
A soul put into a body, spending a lifetime learning physicality,
Split in two, one which lives and one that searches, until he finds you.
He pierces your skin, makes your blood black,
He makes you die an infinite death, brings you to the only place you do not know,
Calls you by your name and you must follow.
We live our lives waiting to be found, waiting to return,
Waiting for the black dog to find us. My other half.

I see him trailing, sniffing my path, smelling my skin,
Shivering, shaking, he brushed against my arm and it all went dark.
Fragile, a fragment of death blew past my nose,
I could have broken into a thousand parts,
I could have been found, but he stayed there, close enough
For me to see him, too close to hide.
My black dog, made me everything, made me God,
Made me consciousness, made me the great Abraxas.
I tasted his rough fur, just enough to live the rest of my life
With the impression that everything is so small,
But not tiny enough to crave death at every moment.

He sits in the corner, watching me, from a distance that seems too far.
I wonder why he didn’t take me when he had the chance,
It should have taken him a lifetime to find me, but here he is, so soon.
His ideas make sense, his words are thoughts that had never been said,
His touch is perfect, he terrifies me, but satisfies my yearning to feel pain,
Because that is how I feel alive. That is how I will live.
He shows me his power again, makes me lose all control,
Makes me succumb to the physical world, makes me human.
What does he want me to learn here, if I no longer fear him?
My black dog, howling again.


Feel free to review in any way that you like, or review in the form of a poetic response. I expect to write more poems with this theme in the near future. I am not looking for feedback so much for the grammar, but more on the idea and what it makes you think/feel/see and understand anout yourself.

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4revgreen
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4revgreen wrote a review Review · Sep 26

Hi Ellie!

I was very excited to review this poem, as I read it when you first posted it and was just in so much awe that I didn't know how to put my thoughts into words. I think your poetic style is beautiful, and the ideas explored here are so deep and meaningful!

My first idea here revolved around the "black dog" as a split self. You open with

My black dog, separated from birth.
A soul put into a body, spending a lifetime learning physicality,
Split in two, one which lives and one that searches, until he finds you.


So I already know that this black dog is a part of the narrator that was physically separated from them at birth. In folklore, the black dog can be seen as a hellhound, a servent of the devil who comes to drag you to hell when your time is up (this may also be from Supernatural... yep) In England, there's a legend of a black dog called Black Shuck, which roams the coastline and countryside. People described it as an omen of death, but others have seen it to be 'companionable'.

I think Winston Churchill once referred to his depression as a 'black dog' which I think adds to the interpretation rather than changes it. The black dog is a darker part of the narrator, something that was taken at birth but found its way back eventually:

He pierces your skin, makes your blood black,
He makes you die an infinite death, brings you to the only place you do not know,
Calls you by your name and you must follow.
We live our lives waiting to be found, waiting to return,
Waiting for the black dog to find us. My other half.


Whether this is depression or something else, using the black dog reframes the feeling not as an outside force attacking the speaker, but as something that belongs to them, that they're incomplete without, even if it is dark and terrifying.

Also in that line, death is presented as a sort of doorway, not an ending. Dying an infinite death feels like it is describing a repeated psychological state, a place of unknowing the speaker keeps being dragged into, rather than a literal death. Shifting from using 'you' to 'we' and 'us' at the end of that stanza:

We live our lives waiting to be found, waiting to return,
Waiting for the black dog to find us. My other half.


Makes the black dog something that all of us have. Perhaps this is something many people spend their life running from, using religion or spirituality to keep it at bay and say that they are good, but many of us know we are not complete without it.

The most striking turn in the poem for me was:

My black dog, made me everything, made me God,
Made me consciousness, made me the great Abraxas.


Here there is a direct parallel to religion with a mention of God. I had to google Abraxas, but my understanding is that Abraxas represents the union of light and darkness, and the number 365, so hence represents being whole. God is also whole, especially in the catholic interpretation of being the son, the father and the holy ghost at once. The great Gods are made up of multiple fractions, each one a whole thing, but whole together. So perhaps we can be whole without the black dog, but we are still whole WITH the black dog.

His touch is perfect, he terrifies me, but satisfies my yearning to feel pain,
Because that is how I feel alive. That is how I will live.


To me, this sounds as though the narrator is saying that the pain the black dog brings is proof of life, proving that you are living and alive. This brings me back to the black dog representing depression, since depression becomes a part of our lives, and life will ever be smooth sailing and straightforward, and our hardships only shape us into better people. Merging with the black dog may be painful physically, but also painful to admit we need the black dog in order to change and grow as a whole.

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AlexWrites
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AlexWrites wrote a review Review · Sep 19

Hey, Ellie. Powerful poetry! It got me thinking- what would the black dog say? =)

Hope you enjoy, this was a fun experience for me!

Your mirror to reality- the one you were born with.
I'm no darker than the shadow you always carry.
You say you're torn- but we're one, and there's no separating that.
Your blood has clotted black from all the stillness.
Bringing you to the corner of your mind you were too afraid to visit;
I show you the way to confessing, and you follow.
But I keep waiting for you take the leap of faith.
To look into yourself, and embrace me.

I see you shifting awkwardly in the light.
You never belonged there, and I believe you know it.
The white dove on your shoulder- it's not here to stay,
You deserve much better than its shallow eyes and muddied wings.
Evading my scent, although your soul pulls at it.
You run away from admitting the things that mean something.
I gave you everything, only for you to trade it for comfort.
Curling up so that nothing can hurt you.
My paw grazes your skin, and I can feel-
How the cage you chose now confines your becoming.

I sit watching, and we seem closer than ever.
I wonder why you never come up to me.
I should've been cradled since conciseness hit, yet it's been long alone.
I'm the reason you can't shun forever, meeting your appetite for pain.
The ache in your veins, a fever dream.
You look at me like some faraway fate,
when all this while- I've been within you.
Waiting for you to finally come on terms,
with the wild side you've always hid.



A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.
— Oscar Wilde