Depressions
poem by:
P Mason
Written
on Jan 12, 2017
Depression
A grey day
No sun breaks the sky.
The cold slaps at the lungs with each breath drawn.
Ripples of pain shoot through his back,
spreading in the concentric circles
as a pebble is thrown into a pond.
Left to wonder if it's the advancing cancer in
a failing 73 year old body,
or the two-hundred pounds of firewood
hauled in each day to feed the wood stove and
warm the quiet and silence of a forest hut.
Depressions weigh heavily on a broken heart.
An unexpected love found with its
beginnings, complications and endings
as painful as any physical wound
maybe even more so.
No opioid can lessen its pain.
Its concentric circles of emotion ripple out
through the soul
in an ever widening arc of sadness
all the way to the fingertips.
No solution, solitude or warm sun to lessen either pain.
Nothing to do except endure,
and wonder what the night will bring.
There are no answers .