The Wake Of Robin Williams

The Robin Williams tragedy has hit me hard. Those of you who know me know why. You also know that I am not usually at a loss for words. I am today.  All I could do is write and of course what came out is a poem. In my mind, at least, it addresses the existence of being a tortured soul. It addresses the world's naiive response to depression and addiction. It addresses peoples tendency to sweep things under the carpet so they don't disrupt their own lives. As Wayne Dyer said best, "Do not die with your music still inside you". I hope you enjoy it.

The Wake of Robin Williams

Our lividity

at the breadth of what the mind can do to sway us

into thinking

that our verse of immortality is ever finished.

Done.

Lividity

that creeps upon our faces

as we feign to understand the words “Depression”

“Addiction”

“Sorrow”

“Phone”

How do you understand a pain that burrows

itself among the ricocheting words in constant rhythm

between everyday, yesterday, tomorrow.

No ease of speech can slow them

or freeze them

or unwind the coils of desperate tow

spewing comedy and error

hoping to deflate

the pangs of creativity that build in solid measure rising falling talking briskly jumping walking sliding balking images arising until one can barely close their eyes to think.

Imagine

expanding your soul until your breath can only creak a meager whisper

while all the while the shouting never stops

brimming

stripping your mind until all that’s left is torture.

Statistics are overflowing

with melancholy madness that no person on this earth can try to hide from

or ease the blame-

Not with money

or welfare

or shame.

Not with children

or college

or Alcohol

or fame.

Or dope.

I am livid.

That we turn our cheeks and calibrate our hearing

so we won’t upset the conscience, vibrate the norm,

unmask the very guilt that plagues our presence.

Lividity

that won’t allow the funds to save the masses

cure our heartache

end the drone

shave our bones to activate the inner core of marrow that they spoke of

They who grew too weary from the ricochet-

Addiction-

The constant ring of sorrow-

Mesmerizing energy-

Alone.

Sometimes the only way out is through it

Sometimes it comes

Sometimes it goes

Sometimes the light of fervor is extinguished

And vibrates the norm

And makes us wonder:

“How am I to bear the brunt of lonely?”

“Who am I to capture what I seek?”

Don’t let your mind sway back and forth the notion

That you are worthless, and weak.

Finished?

Done?

Your verse of immortality is singing…

Let it speak.

-Christy Garrison Guise