after many years of study
I know my depression well,
and with scary familiarity.
I know it like a sailor knows the storm
he is fighting alone far out at sea.
it will end and then begin again,
but I don't know when,
for I can scarcely see.
I don't know which way to go
to avoid this unkind friend.
it was ahead of me in the beginning,
it will be waiting for me at the end.
I know the methods I chose in the past,
and I know how briefly the successes last.
While the Sun breaks on a Western horizon,
a westerly wind hauls my sails away
in another direction.
I have searched the sky,
and the stars at night,
I have searched through grains of sand.
I held a joyful fascination
until depression
snatched it from my hand.
and left me alone
where I could scarcely stand.
I know depression as a kind of prison,
in which at random I am sometimes thrown.
upon these walls
many lessons are scrawled.
I have read them all,
and counted every stone.
I wonder if a wise old soul
will tunnel up through my floor,
and help me escape this dark place
and sail with me to a brighter shore.
and it happened before,
though it was not clear
in my heart and mind.
that kind souls visited me,
but i was unaware
because depression makes me blind.
I tested every theory,
I tried every old wive's tale,
in darkness without a laboratory
searching for a key
to unlock the iron door of mY cell.