She ached, not from the weight,
But from the absence of it.
The gentle waves of breath,
Rising and falling had ceased
And her arms had nothing
To pull in close…
She hung her head in
Unbearable unhappiness,
But it found nothing to kiss-
No soft fuzzy head,
So tiny wrinkly fingers,
No relaxed little hand.
She did not miss what was, but rather,
What could have been.
She was tired from what
She no longer carried
Exhausted from grieving
With no one offering to understand.
A poem about struggling with depression, for any fellow believer with the melancholy tendency. From the Unlocked Heart of SayLore- with love, we will always make it!
The first steps pitter pattered the morning away
Up and down
The stairs and hallways,
The quick rush of morning hush
Productivity
In the breakfast of silence.
Those first steps are my nemesis
I conquer every day break,
Those first bites of cereal are an
Up and down
Of jaw and thought process.
Do not mock the hurting heart-
And worse still, yet the more common,
Do not mock the happy heart
For it so easily loses that unstable emotion.
Up and down.
“Depression” is such an overused word,
“Anxiety” it’s highly populated cousin,
Up and down.
It’s not a lack of adequate medicine
But a lack of self-respect learned.
To the aching, their
Up and down
Seems the work of a weakling,
But those still rejoicing in
Humanity
Are the strongest people I have seen.
Biology, the neuro loving,
Psychology, are all too
Up and down;
This is not a question of Why? And Why Not?
But learning the cure for selfish focus,
And choosing to love, when others do not.
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