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(wc 357)

Depression is an odd thing that comes from left field – especially when there are no external reasons for it.  Certainly sadness comes when we are confronted with death of loved ones, with family difficulties – with any number of things that cloud our days and block the sun of happiness.

I am certain most of you have discerned my difficulties of late as I have had a hard time coming up with things to write, yet at the same time feeling compelled to write anyway.  My only hope in sharing my less-than-fun or enlightening (admit it – sometimes my posts can enlighten  😆 ) posts of ruminating wandering prose and/or poetry.  So, in that spirit, Poly and I have come up with a Wordle that we hope will be more uplifting, even though a bit self-centered – just to show you we are not wallowing in  misery, and are making efforts to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and start all over again!  My wish for all of you is happiness and the knowledge of unending joy within.

Small Victories

After grief, we’re told, relief
from mourning’s shrillness, comes the stillness.
But such a thing cannot be bought
by some hocus-pocus of a hand-picked crocus,
Nor death’s dolor altered by a blossom’s color.
The passing radiance of a flower is no amulet
to wear close to the heart, a fading secret.
There is only waiting, in the stubborn quiet
to hear at last the shatter, the raining clatter
of the massive window of who we were
fall upon us, cutting our lips, covering
our shoulders, hips, arms, and legs.
And as we rise, to move away
yesterday’s glass shards are crushed
beneath our feet, piercing skin and bone,
embedding in the marrow,
perhaps some day to work their way
into the storehouse of tearless memory.


Please don’t read this poem as anything other than what the words led me to.  I am not suffering the loss of a loved one, and as depressed as this poem sounds, it does in no way reflect my improving condition.  I am well, and I am getting better, and that is surely, for now, enough. . .