Dirt

Dirt Farmer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

To break her crust with bare fingers

the warming earth

this loaf of bread

one must tear through, thumbs pressed in

encounter root, rock, worm

the soft centre of things

one dark, one light

hidden then exposed by the work of hands.

One must prepare

for dark circles under nails

the definition of finger creases

a crumb confetti on the lap,

and with hands raised to open face

the smell of history; this land

broken for you ~

daily bread.

SDG

Audition

Audition (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You walk in, full arms all papers, water bottle and inadvertent slam

door against the wall and a cringe sorry to nobody in particular

in the empty waiting room. You try

for the appearance of nonchalance

like you’ve done this before, stomach twisting out prayers

as you wait, wonder why, and then

it’s your turn. Strong hand shake, smile

offer real, look him in the eye respond, and when he finally asks

if you would like to share some of your poems

you say yes, yes, I would, and you step up

to the borrowed music stand

your pop art sign glowing like a bright star

against every feeling of inadequacy

open your mouth

and speak him into believing.

When it is over he says good, good

and you feel a giddy gut pull where

you are almost sure

writing words and speaking words and living words

is more than just a square peg in a square hole.

SDG

Release

Release

Nothing prepares you

in the beginning when he wails into night’s quiet hours

and maybe it’s not about him needing you that much

more about him being mad

to be pushed from warm nest into cold world.

Still you do what you can, breast to soft mouth, arms wrapped

tight against everything. You let go in small ways

like a bandage being torn slowly from scab over wound

you feel how he forgets to look back

that first time at the playground, how he smiles wider

with his friends. It’s what you do. Nobody tells you exactly how.

You order each memory in a scrapbook, smooth down his life captured

in a thousand framed stories

and wonder how seventeen years can lay out so well on the page

while inside

you are ragged edged, coming unglued.

 

Considering the upcoming High School Graduation of my son, Malcolm James Evans, whom I am especially fond of.

SDG, Lesley-Anne

Mercy

A powerful light shines in the dark. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When boys carry bombs in backpacks

Lord, have mercy.

When cancer empties inside out

Lord, have mercy.

When mothers give in

Lord, have mercy.

When death drives by

Lord, have mercy.

When foundations fail and floods come and evil is on the move

Lord, have mercy.

When it’s not just on television

Lord, have mercy.

When we are burdened and sorrow filled

Lord, have mercy.

When darkness falls

Lord, have mercy upon us and

Lord, send light.

 

Sorrow

English: Weeping Angel part of mausoleum of cannon Guilain Lucas (d1628) by Nicolas Blasset. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sorrow

 

I am sorry

that your little girl won’t run into her father’s arms

that you won’t meet him at the door, feel his warmth

that he did not come back like he said he would

that it ends like this

the prayers unanswered

the horror

the questions

the everything before and after defining moment

that will carry you from now on

and the only hope that still remains

some day may it be enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Mental Health Week (and how hard it is to explain how you feel when you are depressed…)

So, it’s Mental Health Week in Canada… May 6 – 12, 2013. And I feel a lot better about celebrating mental health than I do admitting or even accepting that my annual seasonal disorder (SADD) and hormonal fluctuations post partum and menopausal might be a form of ‘mental illness’. Very hard to come out and say that.

Why is that? Is it because there is still so much bias, misunderstanding and confusion around the phrase? Is it because it’s just really embarrassing to say “I’m mentally ill”? (Why is it easier to say (and only to some safe people) “I’m feeling a little depressed”?) Must we identify it in order to deal with it properly? And with medication? And with counseling? And with lifestyle changes that include health of body and spirit and mind? And with the support of those who love us? Yes, to all of the above.

Other than that I don’t have a lot of answers, but I’m willing to admit I struggle.  I’m willing to cast my lot in with all those who share the burden of psychological angst, times of overwhelming despair, and one who has considered not being as being better than prolonged being in this emotional state.

It’s far too complicated for me to explain my whole story, but know that I live with depression, struggle with coping, and I’ve come to recognize it as part of who I am. I am a person of faith who has doubts and darkness. I have the hope of Jesus and yet live in periods of hopelessness. There are others like me in my family. We talk about it amongst ourselves.

This attempt at bringing a little light into a dark place was written in April 2009.

The glimmer of hope is at the very end. It’s usually like that…

So yesterday about this time, I was feeling like my world was caving in along with my chest. Perhaps a little over-stressed, I had a feeling of unexplainable impending doom that was physical, and it was beginning to take over my mind as well as my body.

I stood by the sink after a morning of trying to get some of my menial household chores done, and heard a voice in my head say, “maybe you should just go and check yourself into the hospital”, as clear as day. So, I thought about that for a little while, wondering how that experience might pan out for me?

Hi, I’m here to check myself in.

What for?

Well, it’s that I just can’t seem to pull myself up by the bootstraps, you know. I can’t seem to find my stiff upper lip and suck it up princess, if you know what I mean.

I’m sorry Ma’am, I don’t know what you mean. What precisely are your symptoms?

I guess you could say that I feel like there’s nobody I can talk to about how I feel, and that I feel like I’m too much for everyone that I might have talked to if I could have found someone.

Are you in any pain?

Well, if this pressure on my chest, and the heavy thing that’s sitting on my head counts, then yes, I guess I’m in pain. But not a sharp stabbing pain, more like a dull repetitive one.

Are you on any medications?

No, and I don’t really want to be, and that’s why I’m even afraid to tell anyone how I really feel in case they suggest drugs might be the answer. I guess there’s the ‘Maccaroot’ supplements I’m taking… to balance and energize me… but I don’t think that’s working.

So, what precisely can we do for you ma’am?

Well, I thought maybe I could just sign in and curl up in an empty bed somewhere until I feel better able to cope, find some energy again, and maybe find a friend that I could talk to. Would that be OK……?

At this point I realize that my idea is lame, and I haven’t got a chance of convincing medical staff, nurses or doctors that there’s something wrong with me any more than I did two days ago when I tried to explain myself to my husband.

So, I continue to stand by the kitchen sink until the phone rings, goes to the answering machine, and I recognize the voice as someone who might just be able to relate to part of how I’m feeling and I dry my hands on the towel and pick up the phone.

Hi……

Sunday and still here…

I’m sitting on my couch and the sounds of dishwasher and kids playing ping pong and dog snoozing are all I hear. I didn’t go to the church with walls and ceiling today. Instead, I stayed home and made banana pancakes for my two sons. We talked at the table. It was very good. Why not celebrate God is Love right here and now.

I’m reminded of Mies Van Der Rohe, of his “less is more” approach, and how I’ve got to be reminded of that over and over again when Spring hits and soccer and must do’s overwhelm my preferred life of simplicity. Personal time, family time, down time, meal time, is all affected. I have to seize each opportunity as it comes. Rather than live by obligation or should do’s, do what my heart says. See the beauty in the moment, like the inside of a cabbage I cut open and discovered the beauty above.

I also found this… a reflection I wrote a while ago on an old blog… but think I needed to read again today. For permission. For confirmation. For grace. For the reminder that;

I’m also a simple woman with a sphere of influence that starts at my own kitchen table.

Yes,

Lesley-Anne, SDG