I haven’t even wanted to write.
I’ve been frozen,
in a seemingly endless night.
Despair and dread,
rippling through my being.
What’s the point?
Why try?
I’d rather just cry.
But I can’t even do that.
God it would bring release.
And for a moment,
there would be peace.
I’m in treatment.
Getting help.
There’s a little bit of hope.
I cling to it.
Hope is my raft on stormy seas.
One day I’ll find land,
and tall fir trees.
The trees of my youth,
when I still believed,
in something higher,
higher than me.
I need that belief,
now more than ever.
And still,
to say it was true,
that I felt it through and through,
would be a lie,
no matter how hard I try.
I’ll not put on that mask.
I’ll not play pretend.
It won’t matter,
in the end.
The truth will be.
I guess I’ll see,
when my time comes.
Till then I’ve no belief,
but a small bit of hope,
and I’ll cling fiercely to it,
for I need it,
to cope.
Poetry
Comments are closed.
I like it. Very descriptive. At first I thought into might go into “clique-mode” with the ‘raft on stormy seas’ part, but you quickly deviated from the cliché, which is very good. the juxtaposition of hope vs. fatalism/negativism is nice, shows the struggle of just trying to survive depression. Good job.
This was very heartfelt and well-written. I wish you the very best in your fight and know you will come through victorious! Takes these thoughts and feelings, continue to put them to words, continue to write. It will be your solace in the most difficult times. God bless.