Wednesday, August 13, 2014

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