Once more
November's gray skies
Hover over my soul
Draining me.
A time
Where death comes forth
Like the fiery Santa Ana winds
Claiming it's due.
Find myself
Struggling to keep afloat
As the holocaust threatens
To consume me
In it's embrace.
Knowing
Time isn't
On my side.
As the growing darkness
Looms larger
Upon the horizon
Before me.
Awaiting
For the coming downpour
That leaves my soul
A frozen shell
In the desolate landscape.
As I have one foot
In this world
With the other
Straddling the line
Between life and death.
Knowing
That November is
The month of death.
Therisa © 2017
Author's note: November 10-20th, is one of my darkest period on the calendar, in which, many somber remembrances and anniversaries are observed. On top of my SAD that usually last from November to mid--March, before I can leave the grip of severe depression. Although, over this past year I have been dealing with a chronic depression, except for brief periods, hasn't left me. Struggling to write, as my depression has chased my muse away.
24 comments:
The last November was one of the worst month's of my life so these words resound with particular meaning for me.. let's hope for better Novembers to come.
Thank you, Kerry. I hope and pray that this year will be different.
The tsunami of approaching darkness is one I'm very familiar with. I, too, pray that this year is different- for you.
Try to hold on to your muse and when the time comes, use your pen as a weapon. Write one-line poems, if you have to. We're all here to support you.
( I speak as one who survives this way)
This actually made me cry. Hold your ground...as much as possible.
Dark and chilling, Therisa. November is a grey month, when the end of the year approaches, but once you get over the threshold of the new year, you're home and dry.
Even grown ups like children need a comfort doll, a teddy bear, a trusted friend to get them through the dark patches of life, perhaps even a holiday would help Therisa.
It is interesting to think we wish for things to be different, and yet each year they seem the same. Living deep isn't easy. For me, when I begin to sink, I write and write and write. I don't know if this really helps...but it is what I do. When things become overwhelming, I think if I write it down, I can let it go, come back to it later....or not. May each day be full of the gifts that wait for you.
I do think writing helps oftentimes to keep a person above ground and to get through the very difficult times. As Vivian so aptly said, use your pen as a weapon.
What a dark poem! And yet there are little notes of hope here and there. For instance, the holocaust only threatens to consume; it has not consumed yet. And there is still one foot in this world, the world of the living. Tiny signs of hope to be sure, but real nonetheless---real enough to grab and hold on to tenaciously.
I am glad you are writing and posting again, Therisa. That shows ascendancy over the darkness, our spirits are born to rise. We shall face next November with extra lights on in our rooms, and our pens poised aloft. Smiles.
Writing always helps me, and I hope writing it out will give you some relief. I have such compassion for what you're dealing with. Your poem captures the darkness in a profoundly beautiful way...I'm sending you good thoughts.
Seasonal depression is such a terrible thing. I hope this coming November is not as bad as the ones already lived, I hope your muse can birth a bit of sunshine and warmth here and there, I hope you stay in contact so those of us on the outside can help... I've never suffered of depression, but when horrors I can't quite control reach for my throat, I reach out... for the hands and faces and words I know will help me keep breathing. Let there be light! in the Fall, through the Winter, in the Dark.
I can certainly identify with this one as March is my hard month. so many anniversaries and sadness associated with it. I too deal with chronic depression and March hits hard. I try to get outside in what little sun there is. I hope your depression lightens through the year.
Ach, November sits heavy here, too, for so many reasons. And, indeed, as I read your poem again, I get a sense that the "I" is a group/universal, all together we face this downpour and desolation, regardless of our individual reasons.
Wow. Sagely said!
I always have a difficult time in December--here is hoping for more light in your Novembers
I would turn the "line" into the "middle way" that forgets any side.
Well written. Made me think, thanks.
ZQ
Its horrible when depression does that to a muse. Hope you get your happy days back soon
A blessed Sunday to you. Thanks for droppk g by my blog
Much🌺🌻♥️love
Thank you, Vivian, for your kind and generous support. The ultimate sign of depressive, is the huge explosion of poetic thoughts. As poems write themselves, usually 2-3 poems/day. Often lasting for several weeks, before the crash.
Does 3 adorable cats count, Robin? As for a vacation, I can't afford one, with my monthly disability cheque and the prices in Toronto.
Then the joys of the month of fevers, February. Never fails, I get sick on my birthday. Am thinking of petitioning the UN that day be deleted from the calendar. Thus saving numerous groundhogs from physical abuse by humanity.
i think writing helps, to get your mind off the painful things. don't let your muse goes AWOL.
The struggle is palpable...
Where death comes forth
Like the fiery Santa Ana winds
Claiming it's due... so vivid and stark! Hope the writing is cathartic and helps.
Nevertheless the writing is beautiful, one of your best I think. Sometimes the Muse returns refreshed after an absence!
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