Thursday, August 20, 2009

Grandfather clock

A friend of mine recently told me about a friend of his who struggles with suicide and suicidal visions. I don't know why the situation implanted itself so strongly on my subconscious, but I sat down to write a poem about how my own thoughts seem to sway, but by line 5 it just sort of morphed into a poem about this girl I randomly heard about who struggles with the darkness of depression. So, here it be...

The earth makes its full rotation

As her thoughts sway back and forth like a grandfather clock.

An off-beat, slightly broken, wood-chipped-off-the-bottom grandfather clock.

Her heart twinges, her lungs constrict, her stomach clenches as she fights again.

Visions, unbeckoned visions, rise from her subconscious,

Playing out the scenarios, toying with forbidden thoughts, dancing with death.

She’s scared. Scared of what might happen if they come true,

These mental apparitions of darkness.

And scared of what she faces every moment more they don’t.

Silently suffering, quietly battling, calmly pretending that everything’s fine.

But someday, it will overwhelm her.

The pendulum with cease to swing in indecision.

The quite resolve. The numbed execution. The stunned tears of the aftermath.

And world waltzes on without her.