This air is thick enough to drown in
Wading through your words
Lightning flashes in the hills like my
anxiety after the press conference.
Summer storm raging.
They announce back to school plans.
I’m watching the hills for forest fires,
fearing the burning.
Brief respite: rain splatters on the back deck,
before oppression descends again,
and our power goes out.
poem-preservation June 10, 2019
We need to be respectful
of tender psyches, mental illness,
all the agonies of existence.
We need to be respectful
of our own tenderness
and pained existence.
When being gentle of their tender troubles,
makes aches worse for ourselves,
who needs to respect whom?
Draw battle lines,
or at least find a bastion
against cries
calling you to your destruction,
dragging you to drown in the moat of their fragility.
Be respectful of your own precious sanity.
poem-point of view May 5, 2017
So often
what I think is a conversation about me
you think is a conversation about you.
My feelings
aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.
But they’re not.
They belong to me
and they’re allowed to be
what they are.
I long for you to acknowledge
how I feel
what I wonder
what I want
isolated from your sense
of inadequacy.
I’m tired
tired
tired of your issue
always overshadowing
any of my concerns.
Mental illness
is annoyingly
narcissistic.
Please consider other points of view.
It isn’t always about you.
Really.
Sometimes it’s about me.
poem-leave September 25, 2015
The dog pulls you down the street.
Your eyes are hazy,
Your hair is wild.
Your beard’s unkempt.
Your steps thud awkwardly like you’ve forgotten how to walk.
If the outside reflects the inside,
you definitely need some time
to regain your health again.
poem- startle May 18, 2015
No sneaking
No whispers
No clandestine act
Engine patters
Garage door rumbles
Back door slams
Yet a happy greeting yields hours of anxieties.
Something is not working here.
poem-dreaming April 1, 2015
Last night,
I wept over your broken body,
watching bloody pools expanding
beneath your feet.
Today,
you needed seven anti-anxiety pills
and still paced and cried,
your heart throbbing.
Were we dreaming side by side?
Did you see my vision?
Were you scared by day
from mother dreams
of death?
.
.
.
(The dog again. Sigh. Put him in the Gentle Leader halter after dinner and he calmed down. Might try that during the day tomorrow.)
poem-dragons March 12, 2015
You rest content
curled and snoozing
until bedtime.
Then the dragons come.
They wake you
harass you
scare you,
so you pace and tell us about it.
Dear dragons,
Go away.
We all need sleep!
Here’s a little pill,
a magic tablet,
to send you on your way.
.
.
OJ the dog is about to try some anti-anxiety meds to see if that will help him with his grief and anxiety for a few weeks, until he’s used to being the lone dog. I can’t believe my dog is officially suffering from mental illness. Old dog.