The Dark Cloud of Depression
The dark cloud.
It sits around your head
or inside it, more like.
Around your mind,
or inside it.
Around your heart,
or inside it.
Does it reach your knees?
Seems like it, some days.
Your toenails perhaps?
If you let it, it has a voice.
Please don’t listen to it;
that’s really dangerous;
it makes general statements
as if it knows you better than you know yourself
like, ‘your…’ - no, it claims to BE you -
so, it’s ‘MY life is pointless..’
Have you noticed, it’s
never in front of you,
always somewhere behind you,
whispering over your shoulder
so on a bad day, it’s there in the bed with you
the moment you awake; not of course
in kissing range, that might be fun – but behind you,
murmuring in a bedly voice
‘WE are really down this morning aren’t WE? ’
or it catches up with you in the bathroom
or a bit later, like when you review the day’s appointments
or start out for work.
The First Aid for depression is of course well known
(to everyone else, at some other time…) :
put some music on, sing in the shower,
sit in the brightest light,
toast your hidden beautiful self
in orange juice; take some vigorous exercise,
seek out good company in
someone or something; be
good company yourself, for someone else..
they all work, for a time; but don’t you wish
for the classic fairy tale encounter –
there you are walking through the dark wood
of the dark cloud, and suddenly
the monster springs out in front of you
in all its horror; for the first time
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poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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