Your smile has no illumination,
no dancing twinkle draws the eyes.
What lies will you tell today, when someone
asks if everything is okay?
Poem-Plumbing Depths June 14, 2019
This well is dank and dark,
Though they have promised from the depths
She will see stars,
so far, it’s darkness all around.
She only feels
a giant on her chest squeezing
joy, until tears squish dripping out.
She’ll fill this well with grief;
the only escape may be
floating on surface sorrow
until it floods over the wall
with all the sadness she can carry.
poem-should it be that way? May 10, 2019
It was a suicide.
Two weeks have passed.
“The funeral is today.
Or. Not a funeral. A celebration of life.”
Matter-of-fact voice.
How many times had intention
shown him this path?
That prescription the only protection
against this road.
“Would you like me to come with you?”
Translation:
Let me watch you in this crowd.
See if I can read your mind.
“No. I’m going to stand. It’ll be crowded.”
Did he know,
so many people would want to be there?
Did he know,
so many people cared?
Or was he counting on them,
covering for him when
he wasn’t there?
Two paths forking off this road,
wives watching the journey,
or buried by it.
poem-contemplating September 25, 2017
I’m wondering
about the tension between your eyes.
Those two deep, etched furrows
creased vertically above your nose
that appear when you smile
that tight lipped smile
below eyes that do not laugh.
You say,
you can’t help the furrows;
they happen every time,
and yet
look:
in the moments when your mouth is agape,
grinning widely,
when laughter is visible,
erupting from your face
see
the furrows are absent.
I wonder,
why you hold yourself back from laughter,
why your eyes show only tension,
that you plough into your forehead,
when you could be planting joy.
I wonder
what hurts.
I wonder
whether I can guide you back
to joy.
poem-cure May 26, 2017
The demons are hiding around corners
lurking in the shadows
watching you.
I know you feel the weight
of their gaze
hear the clink of their weapons
every day.
On the sunny days,
you outrun them
find smiles to return to those
around you
in their circles of care.
Other days,
smiles are barred growls,
the glow of sinister eyes pacing
around you,
squeezing life and hope
as their circle crushes in,
suffocating you.
Your demons on their unwitting backs
Your demons in their unwitting smiles
Your demons on their unwitting feet
Your demons in their expectations
Your incessant demons
invisible to others,
writhing,
circling,
just
there.
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-in praise of grey clouds March 26, 2016
You’re overcast again,
a nearly perennial state,
but I have a colourful umbrella
for contingencies,
and I’m safe from sunburn.
Blue sky is beautiful, of course,
but the texture of tangled
shades of grey offering drama
has some appeal,
in small doses, at least.
poem-tenaciousness March 11, 2016
He walks with a personal cloud
dulling his world, blurring his perceptions.
Walling him in, between tendrils of fog
freezing him in place to avoid falling off the precipice.
Her arms are open with devotion and she calls to him,
but her voice bounces off rocks and mist.
Their mutual affections miss each other
in the haze, but both are sincere and will still be there
when the fog lifts
(or he goes over the cliff).
poem- hovering February 18, 2016
It’s a shadow
she can’t quite see,
just behind her head.
A sensation of suspicion
quickening between
her shoulder blades.
A darkness settling in
a midnight coloured cape.
Oppressive premonitions
that demand she hides, fades away.
No energy for fight or flight
when confronting the black horror
of night.
poem- resourceful October 6, 2015
I tied the sheets around the bedpost,
dropped out the window out of sight,
followed you down to the River Styx
with the water dark as night.
I leapt. You bet.
I swam against the current
bumped against all those lost souls
but I was going to find you, and I did.
I tossed a coin to the boatman as he poled along his way, I crawled into the boat
and I did say,
I told you
and I told you
and I told you.
I don’t care how black your night is
I don’t care how deep the pit
I will follow you and pull you back for air.
I will follow through the darkness
I will swim the River Styx
I will do it because that’s what marriage is.
It’s sticking when your hearts in little bits.
Kharon shrugs his shoulders, pulls us up to the next dock
He doesn’t care if we should choose to walk.
I wrap my arms around you and I drag you to the light,
because you’re too precious not to fight with all my might.
If I must be the strength then so be it,
let’s do what we can to make you fit,
I promised I’d be there for better or for worst
and Baby, I’m not driving with that hearse!
In sickness and in health, In poverty and wealth
I told you
and I told you
and I told you.
I don’t care how black your night is
I don’t care how deep the pit
I will follow you and pull you back for air.
I will follow through the darkness
I will swim the River Styx
I will do it because that’s what marriage is.
It’s sticking when your heart’s in little bits.
And I’m sticking so let’s hear no more of this.
I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine
We all suffer those hits.
I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine
in time.
In time.
In time.
In time, Baby you’ll be fine.
.
.
.
.
I had no idea what that was when the first lines came, but apparently it’s the lyrics to a country song about dealing with a spouse with depression. Who knew!
Shawn L. Bird 