Poem: THE OTHER SIDE

Hello readers,
I hope this post meets you in impeccable health.
I don’t know if any of you can relate to this but I’ll never forget how depression and loneliness feels good and bad at the same time. It still does. But I believe that words are strong, that they can overwhelm what we fear when fear seems more awful than life is good, so every time I feel like that, I resort to writing. Something about putting these feelings into writing soothes my soul and settles a calmness upon me. And that is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.
What you’re about to read is a collaboration with my friend and I hope it inspires somebody.
***
A few lines
On paper,
A thousand words
Left unspoken,
This is the tale
Of a man best forgotten.
A few teardrops
On a soaked pillow,
A battle lost
Without being fought,
This is the tale
Of a duel with an invisible enemy.
On the surface
All is calm;
Hidden from view,
A warring soul
Fighting a battle-
One that’s a lost cause.
On the surface
Is another pretty human,
Hidden from view
Is the war in her head
Trying to piece together
Broken pieces of nothing.
For ages
The war’s been lost
And yet
He continues to fight;
One would think
One so wise
Would know better.
For ages,
The whispers of war
And the forthcoming doom
Like a rain laden cloud
Dance around her head
Like African cultural dancers.
Wizened, old and tired,
All appropriate adjectives;
His life flashed
Before his eyes
And he knew
Death was come.
Drowning in the waves,
Crushed by the weight
Of unidentified pain,
Her heart constricts
And her heavy eyes close
Again hoping to open
Up on the other side.

So you must not be frightened if a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloudshadows, passes over your hands and over all you do.

You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any miseries, or any depressions? For after all, you do not know what work these conditions are doing inside you.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

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