Finally, faint I fall
And curl
And wait
Darkness moves
But that is the question,
Someone,
Who has never really known this darkness
Told me,
Just pray
As if I hadn't thought of that
Years ago
Chin up,
Eyes up
Look up
Buck up
All good words
That mean nothing in the darkness
The storm arrives
The only advice
Hold on
I grasp a branch and
Won't let go
It's my connection to this earth
To this world
This life
I have been here before
Many times
Too many times
But I have learned
The winds weaken
It will not be my last
From each session
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A poem I wrote about a poorly understood condition, depression.
I share it in the hopes that those who struggle with their own personal darkness can know that there are others who understand and in the hopes that they might be encouraged to press through, to hold on. It is also my hope that those who are fortunate enough to not know what it is like to be overwhelmed by such dark storms might be able to briefly glimpse behind the veil.
Written by: Larry Fletch; United States; Contributor väcka
