P.U.S.H. Til Depression Begone
My tongue like paper
Incapable of feeling
Merely laying
Nonchalantly
Inside.
Taking pill after painkilling pill
Over the last 48,000 years
Would do that I suppose
To one’s sense of
Taste
But it was more than that
Oh so much more
What I was experiencing
The vacancy
The hollowness
That came inside so suddenly
Leaving me a walking coffin
Empty. Cloistered.
A trapped
Claustrophobe
Eyes glazed
Disinterested
Nothing could shake
This bewildering haze from nowhere
That descended on me without warning
Where to go
To be restored again?
Or is this my Waterloo
My Yellow Brick Road
To something deeper
More permanent
To the heart of all that matters?
I wish I knew but in the meantime…
Each day it eases a little bit more
But I’m never far from my next bout
I must thus arm myself to recognize it
When next it comes
And call it out
Preparing the things I need to counteract
Depression’s debilitating effect
A cold shower or warm bath
An aerobics session
A walk by the beach
Or a ka-ra-o-ke
A favorite movie replayed
A poem or two to help me stay
Within the zone of feeling again
To Pray and Pray and Pray and Pray
Until Something Happens (P.U.S.H.)
Until there’s
No more coffin
No more paper
No more loss of taste
No more bewilderment
PUSH PUSH PUSH awake.
PUSH PUSH PUSH ahead.
Until…
…Depression begone!
