Blind Journeys

As fast as I wrestle one demon, his brother rises
like a bad movie. It is as if
I was meant to wrestle, meant to fight.

You have no idea how hard it is, battling
when you are pacifist and an introvert,
who wants to be left alone to read, write and observe;

how hard it is to keep your truest nature
when you live in a world antagonistic and angry,
so full of lies that the merge

From absurd,
to “hmmmm”
to the mainstream
to legend.

How in the world will historians figure it out?
It is impossible to see the spirals and the end at once
and so you move your focus, one to the other,

an uncomfortable dance where everyone
wants to lead and no one trusts anyone
and often with good reason.

The demons are vocal this morning.
They refuse to stay at home.
They clutter the landscape. They hide the path.

They block the light.

And so, you call on memory. Remembering
where the light once was, and walk in that direction.
It is a journey you have made before.

It is a journey you will make again.
A blind, unpleasant journey of faith
when you’re not feeling it.

A journey that somehow finds light.
I have learned: God is there if I only have the courage
to walk through the dark.

About this poem

Another day in the life of depression poem. Regular readers know poetry is often my therapy. Something about writing it down makes the light more concrete. And the light always wins. And so, no matter how dark, I am very conscious of writing light at the end, no matter what.

There have been many places in my life when I was not feeling faith and needed to. “Act ‘as if” you felt it.” my first therapist told me. “The brain pays attention to what you tell it. It pays attention to what you do. Be a bully and make it go away.” And for me at least it works. As I tell people, I fight depression. I don’t suffer from depression.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom