SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘depression’

In The Shadows

Rainy Split Rock Weekend 399

 

Darkness descends like rain

in the forest, cold and penetrating.

Wet leaves cling and weigh the soul

until it disappears into crevices

where life does not exist.

When one no longer sees,

does sun filter through the

branches to warm the heart?

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Soft As A Song


I’m looking for a cushion of air,
a place to catch my fall,
I don’t want to care.
I’m not listening for the call.

Oh, the hours I waste
wondering what to do.
This life, I have but a taste;
just enough to get me through.

There must be a way I can be freed
from the pinning of this wall.
Your softness is what I need,
you holding me as I fall.

My days are far from done
as I’m learning to ride with the wind.
This isn’t easy for a stubborn one
who doesn’t know how to bend.

I’m looking for a cushion of air,
a place to catch my fall,
I don’t want to care.
I’m not listening for the call.

It is lost, this rest, this sleep,
for those of us who fly high
and plunge into the deep
while we continue asking why.

There must be a way I can be freed
from the pinning of this wall.
Your softness is what I need,
you holding me as I fall.

Demons wander through the night.
I shudder. Life is not fair.
But you, you fill my life with light;
You are my cushion of air.

Time seems so wide
when I feel so small.
Yet, you are at my side,
because you hear my silent call.

You, soft as a song singing in the night,
cradle and smooth my every fall.
You hold me until the world is right
and I no longer feel so small.

Resurrection

I concentrate
on the sacred song of water whistling
through time-eroded rocks, the rushing of life above.
Twisted ash stretch and shield,
a barrier to my soul and comforter of life.
Stillness collides with chaos.
I am an intruder, bolstered by
incoherent conversations between trampled spirit
and winds of indecision leaving me empty.
Standards of such sacrifice are meaningless
when destiny is indisposed
and faith has washed downstream.
This vast collection of inadequacies
corrupts my mourning soul
with revelations of daily existence.
And I wonder what grace really means.
Does a heart restrained by betrayal hold
the capacity to feed the multitudes?
The moan of a lone brown trout
says, it is finished.
I demand, Who is in charge?
Truths are vital when facing the grave,
yet I fail to listen for the answer.
Soothed by connection,
that lullaby of temporary sustenance,
I am not prepared for imposition of soul.
Wisdom whispers, You may not barter.
But the leaves of my existence argue.
My core cries for validation,
I have no song, tears melding in unity
with the river’s flow.
Reach into the depths.
Find me. Find yourself.
Words, not my own, resurrect me.
Holy song of praise shatters deception.
Sunlight glistening on the surface
reflect all that is possible.
Echo rises through my bones to waters’ rush.
I reach to welcome my broken self.
From the profundity of darkness, I see
I am not finished.

When The Fog Comes Rolling In

When the fog comes rolling in

And seeps into the pores of your life

And settles in the marrow of your bones

When the clarity of yesterday’s dreams

Has turned into a stupor of tomorrows gone by

And you have no idea where to go from here

When the chill of the mourning mist

Freezes any hope of freedom from yourself

And forgiveness lives in a land far away

When the silence echoes in a barrel of time

That has been tossed into an untamed sea

Of memory, regret, and dead courage

When peace becomes a political concept

Between the soul of uncertainty

And a mind of misinterpreted intentions

When you have dowsed so deep

You’re swept into underground river rapids

Without a paddle, float, or even a plan

When you can’t see your hand in front of you

And you’ve forgotten your own name

And you need a map to find your way home

Reach through the swollen nothingness

And grab the switch, that flicker of Light,

That frees your spirit every time

Melancholy

I slide into darkness

And wear it like a glove

Finger by finger

It melds into my soul

Until my heart does not exist

And I stop reaching for the light

I cling to the shadows for comfort

Knowing it is all that is left of me

And I am afraid of the dark

Prompt is “meld”.

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