Depression (Pt. 2)

I awoke to a gentle coo-cooing
each morning; a tender,
though simple sound,
under ordinary circumstances,
but ominous then:
a mourning dove.
A dove, you would think, gentle?

Sunrises with mourning dove
awake with sleep’s refuge ended,
trying to stave off the unthinkable;
to pretend in my first moments
upon awakening
that it’s all a dream;
it’s okay; everything’s normal;
you have a reason for being,
for existing.

I remember it well:
20 degrees outside,
and still this one
live, sad, bird
alone in winter, staying put,
perched on a bare limb
somewhere outside my window.
No other sound but his
breaking the hush
of that tremulously forboding
new day beginning
or maybe it was ending
in one of those short, short evenings.

And I knew I had to get up eventually
and face this new day
that would be like the ones before
with its fearfully intense
nothingness.

The sun would rise,
the skies would be clear.
But I could not appreciate this miracle,
the way I was then.
Nothing much to grasp at;
no dry and brittle little straw
to put between clenched teeth,
even in sleep.
Just numbness.

I couldn’t hear a reveille
if it stared me in the face,
But I’d hear that mourning dove.

That black fog turned day into night
as soon as it dawned clear and cold.
What consciousness of this?

Arise, and find the day had nothing to say,
but it waited for me,
an ordinary-seeming day.

I hear the mourning dove again.
There’s a different sound about it,
but a somber one, still.
It makes me wistfully sad
until I hear the mockingbird
with it’s incautious,
jubilant song of joy
which makes me happy
every time I hear it.

I no longer notice
nor do I care that the innocent dove,
whom someone decided was in mourning,
is perhaps happy, too,
in its native language,
monotonous and joyless;
content, maybe?

I only know there is a difference.
A vast difference
between the sad song I heard then,
and the tender song
I might hear now,
if I tried.

(Written March 9, 2000)

I’m here…moving back to read past entries… FiM, still nsi

Wishing you a lot of tender and joyous birdsong, my friend. You have had terrible experiences, glad you are through it. Take care

“…to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness” Isa 61:3

adrift

I can not stop the tears that roll down my cheeks as I read of your struggles. For you have expressed them so openly & distinctly that my heart is filled with sadness that you experienced such years of pain. And yet, there seemed to be hope always somewhere present even through at times it may have felt as if you were completely abandoned~

Your presence here has been one of inspiration to so many. Your insightful & compassionate words have brightened the corners of those whose paths you have crossed. We do not know why we face certain obstacles in our lives, but you have shown us how to learn from them & how to persevere. Thank you for sharing this. You are in my heart, dear friend~

Willy & Wilma

Do you suppose we will ever know how the mind functions and what happens to bring depression and other ills?

I had a feeling, as I read, that you would be able to take solace and strength in the natural world. It’s a constant that never fails…I admire your courage in writing about this….

Sunrises with the mourning dove…yes. You have gleaned a great beauty from your depression.

The knowledge one gains after such an experience, is that it is never really over, just subsiding for a while. That statement is not meant to be pessimistic or painful, but only realistic. If one has struggled with this, and I have, one has to realize that it is bigger than oneself, not a monster, no, but a disease. Almost like an addiction. For me, I take one day at a time.

When the smiles come, I let them. When the tears come, I let them too. I believe in emotion, it brings the beauty out in me and out in the world. I don’t believe in diluting emotion in chemicals. A written word, a dance, a song, the sun, a crying baby, a laughing child, my dog, the cat across the street, my husband’s touch, the ocean, a cotton field in winter… These are ali

alive. Peace and patience to you.

Smiling with happiness that you moved out of the darkness and back into the beauty and wonder of nature. You are an inspiration to many and I am glad that I discovered you here.

a beautiful journey. I am glad you do not hear the mourning.

This poem brought me to tears, Oswego! Tears for your pain and tears of gladness that there are people like you in the world who put into words that sad, tragic feeling, find in the haunting cooing of a lone dove, a reason for hope and optimism. I am moved almost speechless!! Comfort and peace, my friend!

Thank you for posting this. It helps me to stop & be aware of different states of being because then I have choices to freely among them. Consciousness opens doors. Depression is a torture, but I agree, one learns from it. It’s been so much a part of who I am. You & several other writers of the morning triggered my entry today. It was 1999. I am wondering if you are hearing birds this morning.

That is to say, to “move” freely among them…

I’m glad you posted this for us. depression can be a terrible thing. But, it can be a growing experience. I have been there in the past, and am trying to get the courage to get it in writing. Will do it one of these days. If all we had were good times we would not realize it. Hope all will be well for you. Keep writing…

We make our own realities. A raven showed that to Edgar Allen Poe and a dove taught you. EAP learned early that the raven would say only one thing, and yet he kept asking it questions for which he did not want that answer. But you transcended that darkness and knew that the same cry of perceived mourning could be a coo of contentment. That is the real success and achievement and healing. [Eriu

They do sound lonely, don’t they?

A rising sun…a bright ray…but it looks as if it is a different sun…for sure it has diguised itself when we were asleep!?…no longer our friend…empty soul, empty heart. Cold! Hope you are doing fine now?! Take care…be happy, and dream of the path. There is so much light, but only if we keep our eyes open. “Smiles”

Edelweis

September 2, 2002

Something here makes me think of your latest poem…I will return tomorrow! Take care my friend,

Eloquent writing on a very painful subject. Thank you for sharing this and for the reminder that there is hope in the midst of depression.