This is one of those days where this speaks directly to my heart.
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
By no means a very good piece, but sincerely meant. Sometimes words really can’t suffice… I wish peace and comfort for all affected by what happened. May they recover to run another day.
Impossible to understand,
Such senseless acts of violence.
Yet possible to hope for humanity’s
Healing, as people help each other.
Impossible to understand, the
Scenes of unfolding horror.
Possible to hope for unity, as
Our strength is found, together.
Impossible to understand, a
Tragedy where triumph should be.
But possible to hope for that
Triumph in surviving, in
Remembrance, in unity.
Triumph in hope itself.
A Keatsian sonnet to be precise. Well, the rhyme scheme is at least (abcabdcabcdede). Mostly, aside from a couple awkward lines i struggled with (this is pretty much a first draft), it is in iambic pentameter, though i did divide it into four tercets and a couplet….
Suffocating under anxiety
so it seems, such a heavy load to bear;
chest compressed and shoulders bent – try to breathe.
There isn’t in me much of gaiety
for gloom appears to have my soul made lair;
light of sun those shadows rarely does pierce.
Deep, the darkness inside me starts to seethe
and boils up, overcomes sobriety;
so hope dwindles, surmounted by despair.
Midnight descending, my thoughts it ensheathes,
devouring, scouring, cruel and fierce;
overpowered, I’m weak, afraid to fight.
My mind divided, this is but a tierce
within; I’m unsure that there’s room for light.
NOTE: “tierce”, as I’ve used it, is an obsolete word (well, i suppose, more accurately, the definition for it that I’ve used is obsolete) meaning “a third part”.
Because i don’t foresee myself composing today. And besides, these fit my mood mostly, except for the last lines that are slightly more positive, hopeful, and forward-looking. Those three descriptors do not work right this moment…
From February 26, 2013
Captive forever, I am held
Hostage to ball and heavy chain,
My mind – my prison – confines me.
Depression forges dark links that
Shackle me to each of my fears,
Fettering me here, endlessly
Stationary, unable to
Move. I can fight if I want, but
‘Tis no use, for depression’s grip
Holds fast, constant, drags me quickly,
Under supervision of fear,
Back to my invisible cage.
Sometimes, when angry I grow, and
Weary, of such small enclosure,
Near delirium, I erupt
In frenzied rage that changes naught.
My perpetual torment: the
Life I desire lies beyond
Reach. Closer I cannot will it,
Nor wish it easier attained.
Fury misdirected and heat
Of wrath this chain won’t melt, nor ball
Crack from my bitterness frigid.
A life with depression and fear
Must be endured until strength and
Resiliency are trained. Then still
Will they follow, ever-present
As a shadow, haunt my steps; though
Now, their prison’s disempowered,
They remain leaden memories.
Hold that dream;
Keep it close.
Safe within soul.
In heart and mind.
Hope for it
Lest it slip away…