Escaped Poems

These come to the surface where they haunt me. I toss them around because the thoughts won’t leave.  I write them down not because they are finished but because I hope it will help them to get born and leave me alone.

Thoughts on Depression (1/2/2015)

It’s there between depredation which is the act of laying waste or plundering

and deprivation which is the act of depriving, taking away from, to keep from having or enjoying.

That is exactly the right place, it is where I would place it, where it belongs.

I’ve heard it said that depression is bad for the immune system and I can’t remember

exactly why but it has to do with brain chemicals and cortisone and stress.

I’m pretty sure if I want to stay well I should consider my attitude toward sadness.

Lately I’ve been sneezing a lot, and feeling that tightness in my throat that signals

a virus taking up residence. Although I don’t want to give in and enable it, although I know better,

sometimes it seems that I cannot stop myself from thinking and crying.

The Singular Experience

Trapped in a singular experience

One in which the intensity is almost unbearable

This is war, this is accidental life, unplanned,

Sudden, a hostage situation of the mind

Waiting for deliverance, for the rescue, for the revealing

Of the plan, the moment when the captor drops his guard

The moment also unexpected, but clear

Now? Now? Now. Waiting.

Just One 

The errant one I’ll always be

But God sees Jesus instead of me

What a strange thing that he can do

To only see one instead of two.

Oh That

The picture in my mind’s eye, the picture of you

that I see behind every other picture

Your large, luminous eyes, brimming with tears

that did not scare me,

No they spoke of the sad, tired, sort of scared heart

that was struggling to know what to do

Was it so hard, so uncomfortable, so close to truth

that we can never speak of it again

that we don’t speak of anything anymore

that even though we live, we live separately

Okay, it was a bit hard, it was hard enough

that it was precious, and worth it.

What we have now is harder, so hard

that now my eyes are brimming with tears

Although they are not nearly as large, luminous

and beautiful as yours.

What Should We Do?

Some things are very hard to place, you try

them out on a shelf, or hang

them on a wall with like items.

It should go well there, surrounded by lovely things

you say. Live with it for a while and see.

Somehow that part of the room looks,

well, odd, and not satisfying like it used to be.

Not right when you really stare at it,

which you probably shouldn’t do. Maybe

you can ignore it for a while and see.

You could pack it away for a year, in a

box, a really beautiful one because it was special.

Out of sight, out of mind, doesn’t

seem to work in this case…

What should we do with her broken heart?

2 thoughts on “Escaped Poems

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