Headspace #8

Something different today to mark the half-way mark of a week of anonymous mental health stories. I’ve found myself becoming very reflective, and have started writing poetry (I know!) to describe feelings and help me understand what’s going on. I’m not quite ready to share any of mine yet, but here’s one a friend sent me seeking to define what it was they were battling.

This is a poem I wrote some years ago when I was in the throes of depression. It wasn’t until recently that I was actually diagnosed as suffering from actual mental health issues, and so at the time it was just me railing against this unknown, anonymous dark force which was besieging me. It’s written as a war cry, an attack on the ‘black dog’, the dark cloud of depression. The way I see it, as soon as you put a face to a foe you make it real, and this was my subconscious way of launching an assault.

Bring forth your light –anon! Anon!
Chase back the wolvish pitch.
I, the son, a bastard born
Will live and die a bitch.
Bring forth the light– bring on! Bring on!
To highlight my endeavours:
Deeds are done, my bastard son,
Don’t quake for nots and nevers.
Bring forth that light –come on! Come on!
Halt not a single while;
This boy is spent, the man undone
And servant to his style.
Rest now your candle by the book,
This bastard’s bastard son,
And read therein in blood, in ink
(in rested pause and vested chore) T
he words of wearied man, undone.
As are all the dusted dreams of yore
Laid aside in lumber,
Still let me sleep in Daniel’s strain;
My most deservèd slumber.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s