My child.
Shake depression’s dust from
your travel beaten soul and bathe in
my pure love. Let me pour my healing fragrance
over your wounds and give you rest.
I plucked you from the orphanage
of death and clothed you in the rich threads
of royalty. Everything I have is yours– I withhold
nothing of myself from you.
I have worn your dust, and know your
sin beaten sorrow. I lift your downcast face, to see the
crowning glory of my new day
reflected in the creation of you.
I sing when the horn
of victory is too faint with grief to hear. May belief
be the miracle in my melody, and others hear the harmony of heaven.
Depression desperately looks for the exits
from the sweat of our nightmares.
You entered our fear driven world
and sweat blood of understanding
as you stayed, all in, the flesh of our circumstances.
Proving that you can resurrect us from the terror of our troubles.
There is a secret staircase I
spiral down, when the front
stairs feel too exposed. In
the darkness of fledgling hours
I retreat. Tracing your love notes
with heart, soul, and mind. Sipping
the earthy tea of you testaments. Conversing
together like old friends. Turning over to you all that
I am.
Allowing sunrise to color in the black and white outline
of your form. Loving because you first loved me.
Some punctuate life with a consistent and steady .
Some complete their lives bungee jumping with expression !
Others leave us guessing at their purpose  ?
But you went out with a ;
An incomplete sentence that can  no longer be edited.
.
The problem with a note left behind?
Your unique handwriting betrays your existence matters.
I’m a worm
trapped in a cocoon of
depression.
Alone.
No! Don’t try to
open me up.
I’ll die!
Let
me emerge, through painful
transformation,
a butterfly.
Short lived and beautiful.
Let Me Emerge a Butterfly!
Hope is a little girl in red pigtails,
flitting ahead of weary motherhood,
inviting flight into crisp blue bird bath of
joy.
Alighting long enough for plump morsels of life.
until branches offers new heights of perspective.
“Up here she tweets”, bouncing excitedly.
Calling me from the security of nesting, to explore
what hope scouts ahead.
I am an impossibility–
Chained to a prison of depression stats,
and yet, singing hymns of freedom.
Rattling the gates of hell to open
your life to the baptism of
possibility.
If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 988 or go to the website at https://988lifeline.org/