Monthly Archives: January 2015

Ice Cracked River

photo of a partially iced over river

i’m sure by tomorrow this will have melted


Someone New

I say hello.
Do I have to shake his hand,
Can I get away with a casual wave and not have to touch you,
What name do I tell you?
I don’t like my own name,
It sticks to the tongue,
And there are too many syllables,
I’ve never said the thing with confidence,
I don’t have enough friends to pull off the
“My friends call me…”
I’m sure I’ve worn my crazy eyes today,
I should make eye contact,
That’s the one thing I can do well,
I can say,
Look at my strength in my eyes.
I can hold you here for a second.
I forgot his name already.

Winter Walking

photo of river bank half frozen

i was so scared i was standing on ice to take this photo, i followed the geese tracks, they’ll know what to walk on

photo of a frozen lake with sunset reflecting

i need a jacket to look at this little lake

The Poem I Wrote Today #4

The song meant more to me,
Too much.
So I asked her to turn it off
Or change the station,
That song came with memory
Of what happened while it played,
What I felt while it sang.
I didn’t want those feelings just then,
I’d leave them with the music for now.

The Depression in the Family

I went for blunt. The subversive, walk around it, can’t hurt her feelings, not sure I should say this, didn’t work last time. So I sent her a text. It read, “Mom says your depressed?” This time around, I wasn’t going to spare her feelings of inadequacy. We were going to talk about it. Because it has to be better this way. She has to know I can listen, because I know what’s going on. I’m gong to make normalcy out of the situation. It’ll be more comfortable for her, and she’ll talk more. That time a couple years ago, she wouldn’t talk to us about it. Now she has to. Because I asked her. I asked her directly.

gif saying i think we should talk about this

but i’m not sure how

She sent a text back. “Lol, that’s correct.” She sent the text back within the minute.
I had to make sure she wasn’t as bad as last time. I tried to remember what it felt like in that dark. Because I thought it would connect us. “Oh that sucks. How bad on a scale of bell jar to rocks in pockets?”
I got a text back two minutes later. “Um it’s in waves from mild inertia to contemplating ovens with new found interest.”
“No deep black holes of doom?” I tried to keep it lighthearted. I worried that if it became too serous she’d shut down on me.

gif of a black hole of depression

it’ll eat you, careful

“A bit.” I thought she’d run with my joke. I thought she’d talk about being a spaceship drifting or make an Apollo 13 or David Bowie joke. But she’d said, “a bit.” I wanted to scream and call her right then. I told myself to be calm and stay light.
“Goodness how dreadful. I’m so sorry. Anything helping?” I didn’t know how to help. It was too late to ask her if there was someway I could do anything when you’re spiraling down.
“I’m eating chocolate pecan pie from our local neighborhood bakery.”

gif of a piece of pie

a piece makes all the difference

So she was ok. She knew what was wrong. She took steps to prevent and cope. When she got here for Christmas, I could see for myself. She can hide behind texts, but not my eyes. We’ll make sure she’s better then.