negative words cut into me
they leave their wounds

old cuts flare up now and then
I hear the world screaming
I am not good enough,
even when I am the only person around

the negative voices in my head
are slowly quelled by the daily spiritual path
based on love and service,
and each subtle damage is being transformed
to scars that teach

my own thoughts keep me trapped,
the bonds tighten when I try to
think my way out

I am only truly free when I open my
heart and mind to something different,
which is to open myself to love

I am slowly lifted out of myself,
when I give and receive love.
helping others, really helps me
to be free

my mind is a wasteland of negative thoughts
self-pity, resentment, and fear-- they bury themselves
deep in my mind slowly decomposing, but sometimes are
reborn when I feed them

I would be consumed by dark self destructive thoughts
that would eat me away from the inside, if it was not for my heart sorting and purifying my negative thoughts into good intentions that grow into thoughtful actions to help others

I always thought I could think my way out from the hell I created, but what really freed me is allowing my heart to sing

I needed the help of others who survived their own wastelands
to believe my song was worth singing, their voices carried me
until I found my own melody bubbling inside of me

my heart sings to remember not to loose hope, and reach out to others

When we are
Bruised,
The colours
May fade
But inside we
Still bleed
For a moment, for a whole lifetime that comes to pass

Buddhists say that each breath brings us closer to death
the saying is not a morbid desire for death, but a reminder to wake up now

I know the big sleep is coming, and some days knowing I will die motivates me to be fully present to today, but somedays the knowledge I will die makes me want to withdraw and do nothing

I don't want to run from death, or embrace death to run from life

When I wake up.
In the early songs of birds
And the rest of the world.
I fight for the release of my body.
From the warmth and sanctity of my bed.

It would be so much easier.
To stay there.
Dealing with dreams and light.
But I move. And I step out of my post-nocturne cocoon.
Shedding my nightly shell,
To take the form of a sac of air and water, with a few bones holding me together.

Joints bending, stretching follows suit after refocused eyes.
I hold my breath, counting the seconds, the hours, the day.
Hobbling through each measurement on my brittle bones.
Hoping on the times when I can lay back down and rest.

Repeat.

This pain gnaws at my frail spirit.
Waiting for the final breath to escape.
But in one final effort, my mind takes shape.
Pushing against the confines of routine.
The measurements split.
My dreams unfurl.
And I step out of sleep.

Wings outstretched.

the summer rain washes
my blues away

makes everything new

I remember when I was lost in depression and self-loathing,
how alone I felt.

Even when I was surrounded by people, who I loved and loved me, I felt disconnected and numb.

This poem is a small message to all of you who felt and feel this way that you are not alone.

No suggestions or advice.  Often the friends and strangers that helped me the most when I was really lost in myself were the ones who drew near and were just with me.

A silent loving presence means a lot when you feel numb to life.  A simple tender touch might not break through the walls of depression in the moment, but I remember those warm touches in hind sight.  

Loving presence were subtle lamp posts that guided me out of the darkness of depression, resentments, self-pity, and hate.

All I have are these words as totems of a loving presence given to me by others that reminded me that I am not alone.  A gentle touch, a silent smile, or just hearing the breath of a loved one sitting quietly next to you.

waking up with
sadness that lingers deep
a quiet aching