at the breadth of what the mind can do to sway us
that our verse of immortality is ever finished.
that creeps upon our faces
as we feign to understand the words “Depression”
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.
expanding your soul until your breath can only creak a meager whisper
while all the while the shouting never stops
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
Not with children
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.
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-
The constant ring of sorrow-
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.
Your verse of immortality is singing…
Let it speak.
-Christy Garrison Guise