Poem: Ancient Wounds

Protected Pangolin: Art by Debora Ewing https://www.debnation.com

Careless shift carapace rifts

A sacred space exposed

Plates of armour torn asunder

Exposing the never whole

Curling 'round her pangolin heart

She tends to these intrusions

In seclusion she seeks inclusion

Within a tribe she cannot know

Warrior head high in a toxic sky

Sucking sulphurous bile from her throat

She ascends from the ashes

Writing footprints of grief in the sand

Poem: Octopedal Intellect

Artwork by Alexander Harvey @ShadyComet (used by permission)

tock tock ticking

round your clock

hand in hand

we writhe

tentacled

bespectacled

one eye open wide

find me

feed me

open heart three

prise to find

inside

technicolour skin

you swim

through oceans

befouled with pride

can we tap

octopedal intellect

breaking brilliance free

before the final

midnight stroke

from grottos where

you hide

Poem: Tendrils of Entanglement

worn wood warm

tentative tendrils

search soul ward for

sustenance and 

salvation

while whittled

paperbark parchment

pulses possibilities 

ringing round 

singing sound

smiling sun ward

finding firmament

fallow flee

retreating resting

retired to reality

blossom bloomed

blackened blighted

bending breaking

into bracken

no longer needed

however humus 

feeds all seeds

for survival

Never Walk Alone

The hardest thing about depression is the overpowering sense of isolation it imposes. It's crushing and creates its own feedback loop, convincing you that no one can understand or bear the brunt of its force. When someone is on the slippery slope into depression or desperation, the best antidote is not to attempt to cheer them up, but to convince them that they are resolutely not alone. That they are seen, not judged, heard, not spoken at, and that you are walking beside them them no matter what.

After too many battles with deep and debilitating depression and a few close calls, I now have what I fondly think of as my "break glass in case of emergency" friend. A friend with whom I've made a standing pact to call any time I start to have intrusive thoughts or I can't see my way through my current situation. It's a reciprocal relationship, I've made the same commitment to her. I know that if I call, she will drop whatever she's doing (within reason, of course) and ride it out. This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.

I know we don't all have this. I certainly didn't until I was nearly 40 and ended up in a psych ward with a 4-month old baby. I wouldn't have made this deal with my guardian angel had she not insisted upon it because she loves me so much. But I implore anyone struggling with their mental health to look for that person when you come up for air. If you're in the midst of a crisis, don't beat yourself up because you weren't prepared, but when you are vomited out on the other side and have a chance to catch your breath, make it a priority. Find that person in your life whom you deeply trust and tell them what you need, ask them to promise they'll be there no matter what, and make the promise in return so you have the honour of being that critical person for someone else.

If your mental health is great (whoot!), look around for someone in your life you love to the end of the earth who might not be on such solid footing. Tell them that you've got their back no matter what. Tell them to put you on speed dial. Tell them that you'll kick their ass if they're ever in a terrifying black place and they don't call you. It may, quite possibly, save their life.

Here's my poem on this theme:

Break Glass in Case of Emergency 

Have you ever been alone?
I’m with you
No one calling on the phone?
I’m with you
No one playing in the park
I’m with you
No one holding in the dark
I’m with you

No one ringing in the year
I feel you
Never offering their cheer
I feel you
No one making any plans
I feel you
Ever offering their hands
I feel you

Have you ever been afraid
I see you
Of the plans that you have made
I see you
Wishing you could go there brave
I see you
So those friendships you could save
I see you

Softly calling to the night
I hear you
Your darkest thoughts the terror fright
I hear you
Ever clinging for the dawn
I hear you
Hoping you were simply wrong
I hear you

That the games you’ll learn to play
I get you
And the perfect words to say
I get you
To the eyes that you behold
I get you
With their secrets never told
I get you

Come clear as you can see
I know you
You were never meant to be
I know you
The same as all the rest
I know you
In your head or in your chest
I know you

You are you as I am me
I am you
This mumbled way to be
I am you
But you never walk alone
I am you
When you have me in your phone 

Spilt Milk

"Nothing can prepare you for motherhood." That's probably the truest statement I've ever heard. I was so beyond unprepared on so many levels that nearly seven years in, I still find myself reeling. I love my children, but I am still in mourning for so many things wiped away by their entrance to this world, my body and mind not least among these. Here's a little Twitterpation (my new label for verses set down first on social media) on these laments.

Oh, baby

You’ve hurt me so

Most people will never know

The hidden scars

That run so deep

The years of nights

Without sleep

You slumber and play

Ignorant bliss

I hold back tears

Your brow to kiss

The middle soft

The endings hard

My restless soul

This mind you charred

A wicked tear

The loss of hair

Unburdened mind

You never care

What you wreaked

On this poor vessel

Resentful thoughts

I fight to wrestle

To the ground

It’s not your fault

You never sought

To be born 

Disjointed Heart

I really struggle with the disconnect between how I feel, how I think I feel, and how I think I should feel. This is especially true for nebulous feelings of affection and love, which I'm beginning to realise I experience quite differently than the average bear. 

People often ask me how I can stand to be away from my children and husband so much, but the truth is, it doesn't really bother me. When I'm away, my thoughts aren't with them; there's no pining, no longing, no wishing I were home. When the question is put to me, I mumble awkwardly and try to shift the conversation to how much I love my work and the deep satisfaction it provides. I choke down the guilty feelings and try to scrub away the self-slapped labels of bad mother and bad wife.

The fact is, I sometimes forget all about dearly beloved friends and family for weeks or months, only to have a sudden pang of yearning for them hit me from out of nowhere. My mind can get so caught up in the fantasy worlds in my head or those on the printed page, the real world all but ceases to exist, and along with it, the flesh and blood people I should be loving. I would, more often than not, prefer to be left alone to deeply explore the worlds and relationships of my own design rather than try to navigate the treacherous waters of the ones I inhabit.

This whirlpool of thoughts coalesced into a few verses as I tried to will myself to sleep last night. I was suffocating as my husband's unspoken question, "did you miss me while I was gone?" sucked all the oxygen out of the room, so I sketched out my silent response. However, it's broader than just that one interaction, it can apply to many. Some about which I've written previously, others I haven't. I didn't think it was particularly good, but some writer friends thought differently. So I will preserve it here.

I SO LATE

You leave
But I don't miss you
Although I know I should

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

Although you wish I would

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

I breathe when you are gone

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

I fear you’ve cast me wrong

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

Always begging me to hold

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

Shadowed secrets never told

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

I know that I should try

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

After years I wonder why

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

It always ends this way

You leave 

But I don’t miss you

Now the only choice is stay 

Geoetry

It's been over 20 years since I last felt moved to write a poetic verse. I think it's a sign I'm finally slowing down enough to be curious and playful with my own thoughts and inner world. I hope you enjoy.

Mountains of Love

They'll cut you, they'll burn you

I have my scars indeed

But my heart is still intact

Left to beat, left to bleed

Never promised me answers

Never promised me thrills

Below fourteen hundred degrees

Their fine carapace chills

I've slept upon their shoulders

We've walked hand in hand

Far less than the mortals

Do they ever demand

They've kept me up too late

Woken with me to the sun

Where there's a slope there's a way

Lava ever will run

Own photo: Mt. St. Augustine, Cook Inlet, Alaska

*******************************************************

Heart-Quake

Solar plexus punch

Hold

On 

Tight

Love the waves

The world is churning

Stomach's hurling

The trees are madly swaying

I'm nearly losing lunch

Will

It

Cease?

Split the road

The building's flailing

Concrete's derailing

The stack of papers falling

To the floor

(Inspired by the #vss365 prompt #stack & the real life events of the November 3, 2002 M7.9 Denali earthquake)