Poem from the past

Okazaki Castle

The blog writing muse is apparently on vacation this week. So instead of posting the dribble I have barely been able to come up with... I shall leave words from another poem written around 25-years ago. Not always, but there are times when I can still so relate to these words from the past.

---

Pressure
    The chains that bind cut off life’s sanity.
    Where did I come from?
    Why did I leave?
    Where am I going?
    All is black and grey.
    Somewhere, I don’t know yet

Confusion
    Cries of pain ascend the heavens
    Step by lonely step I walk among the thorns.
    Clothed in red the sun bleeds its life in unnoticed anguish.
    Cloaked in black the earth turns slowly - stopping.
    Why did I come?
    When should I go?

Friendship
    Long ago... perhaps.
    I don’t remember because no one listens.
    Clouds of fog blur my hearing.
    Gripping the wheel of life I slip and grow cold.
    Leave as silently as you came,
    and tell no one of your going.

Windows and doors

Nagoya Castle

I am lost
wondering why
crying inside
showing no one
holding a shield
hiding in dreams
grasping in midair
I fall
and weep
tears of salt
cleansing tears
tears of pain

---

Those words were written by me around 25 years ago in one of the very few journals I have ever kept. I was in my early 20’s and living in Japan at the time (not far from the castle pictured above). The other night I found that journal in a box, and started reading excerpts from it. Amazing how even though things change, they somehow manage to remain the same.

I didn’t know it then - but I had already been living with clinical depression for a number of years, at least since I was in my early to mid-teens. I say living with depression - but honestly there have been times when I was merely surviving and existing.

This is another poem I also discovered in that journal written so many years ago...

     I hold this shield firm before me.
     The shadow that it casts
     prevents others seeing my emotions.
     It is my brick curtain behind which I hide,
     and watch the world from the shadows.
     I am afraid of the dark.

     In my quiet refuge I sing off tune -
     finding sanctuary in the depths.
     Once I took this knife and parted my defense.
     I allowed torment in, now he is my constant companion.
     We will strengthen each other by holding my shield higher.

To some extent I still metaphorically attempt to hold a shield and build walls in an effort to protect myself... or perhaps to protect others from myself (not wanting to pull anyone into depression's darkness).

Walls are not necessarily bad - I live in a home that has walls and a roof. These are important features that offer protection from weather and unwanted intruders. But my home was also built with windows through which I can see out, and let light in... and there are doors providing the ability to leave, or even invite others inside.

Note to self:  when you recognize depression attempting the hoisting of shields or building of walls - do not forget the need for windows and doors. They can always be closed if necessary, but will provide a built-in alternative to isolating yourself in dark solitude.

I don’t seem to write poems anymore, I wonder why that is?
Hummmm... something to think about.