I wrote this poem at a very low ebb. Some part of myself, a part that I was not fully aware of, knew that the rest of me needed help. Badly. And soon. I was terrified to reveal the depth of my darkness. The ongoing cockroach thought was, "they will lock you up." I am a wife, and a mother, and a daughter, and a sister, and a friend. I am also a psychiatric nurse. I am aware of the irony and that fact is proof that illness has no respect for who you are and what you do. I confess, I am reluctant to share this piece of myself. My mother, who is my biggest fan, and strongest advocate, encouraged me to share it. Her dream is that someday, it will be published. My reluctance is rooted in the thought, "who will care?" Maybe nobody. Maybe somebody. My feeling is that I am honouring my mom, who believes in me. So, read on...
Untitled
All around me I see laughing, working, playing, crying.
These are free to move
unimpeded.
I feel the pull of gravity on my limbs, dragging me down.
I struggle on the edge of the black hole that was first a supernova.
A blinding explosion that ripped away the armor of perceptions that protected me. Soul laid bare I labor
on the brink.
Able to see but not seen. Able to hear but not heard.
Willing my feet to move forward.
Looking back at the maw of blackness that would accept me.
When the unencumbered breeze by,
the wake that laps over me stings
of pity.
The waves of disbelief and misunderstanding knock me off balance.
The enlightened travel past much closer.
Their air clears my cobwebs. Refreshes with
hope.
Closer still come rescuers.
With love tied tight they freely give strength. Shouldering my weight, I can finally cross the barrier
Always behind me the breach beckons singing its siren song of
despair.
By Jennifer (a.k.a. Jennisk) May 9, 2008
Untitled
All around me I see laughing, working, playing, crying.
These are free to move
unimpeded.
I feel the pull of gravity on my limbs, dragging me down.
I struggle on the edge of the black hole that was first a supernova.
A blinding explosion that ripped away the armor of perceptions that protected me. Soul laid bare I labor
on the brink.
Able to see but not seen. Able to hear but not heard.
Willing my feet to move forward.
Looking back at the maw of blackness that would accept me.
When the unencumbered breeze by,
the wake that laps over me stings
of pity.
The waves of disbelief and misunderstanding knock me off balance.
The enlightened travel past much closer.
Their air clears my cobwebs. Refreshes with
hope.
Closer still come rescuers.
With love tied tight they freely give strength. Shouldering my weight, I can finally cross the barrier
Always behind me the breach beckons singing its siren song of
despair.
By Jennifer (a.k.a. Jennisk) May 9, 2008
Comment