Depression, Calloused Hand that Smothers Me

Snuffed out breath

Awakened in night’s soul

pressed into the cradle of  my husband,

Pierced in the heart of rest

that never comes

Peace that never wakes

that smells of death

even as I scream for

life.

Hearing my own sweat

my own terror dripping

like tears from my cheek

longing for the nightmare

of sorrow to end and for the calloused hand

to release my throat to sing.

Published by

Karisa Moore

I lost my son to suicide. Each day since, I commit my day to turning the page and continuing to write my story. There is no deeper grief, but I know too, that there is no greater hope than bringing life out of death. I offer each page to you as a testimony that there is hope for abundant life!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s