Sometimes when I'm really upset or just kind of feeling down, writing a poem helps me sort out how I feel and maybe find a solution, or at least an outlet for my feelings. Often by the last few lines a ray of hope is shining through.
Death of a Dream
|This poem has the same title as one of my drawings, which you can find in the Forest of Illusion. It's a very depressing poem, but hey, we all have down times in our lives... ^_^ We do get over them, right?|
|Shivering a little|
The silence eating at my soul,
It's not anything I can explain.
Don't ask me why my heart breaks anew
With every memory,
With every tear,
With every word.
I am so cold.
Curling in on myself,
I wrap my arms about me.
Words cannot describe this emptiness,
And my soul is torn apart
As the dream painfully dies.
My hope, so blessed before,
Now gnaws at my heart like a wound
That refuses to heal.
Why do they say
That it's worth any pain?
Is it worth this pain?
Is it worth the shattering,
The crushing of faith,
The death of a dream?
Is it worth a broken heart?
But no- this is more than broken.
It is a heart that did not live till now
And now is breaking with every breath,
A new breaking with every heartbeat.
My words were my weapon, and my comfort;
Yet nothing could have hurt me more
When they were turned back at me,
My own words betraying me,
The other words darting in
To stab the heart that I left bare,
The soul I opened to the light.
The absence of hope,
The unbelieving prayer—
Why do these cling to some hearts?
Why do I continue to believe,
To deny what is said
And hold to dream visions
Of magical lives that never were?
My life has been an illusion,
And illusion is what will stay
When all else disappears.
I will continue to wish, to hope,
In stubborn denial.
In the depths of mourning,
I will pretend my soul is well.
In sad self-delusion,
Clinging to what is lost,
I will pretend my hopes still live
Even after the death of a dream.
|I don't quite remember what prompted the writing of this poem or why I was so depressed, but I do know I scared some of my friends with it! One thing about my poetry is that it gives me a chance to be really melodramatic. I may write about losing faith, and maybe I am really hurting and searching for the light, but I've never truly given up hope. If you look, you'll see that even in this depressing poem, I talk about waiting for healing and the spring that is far off, but is certain to come someday.|
|Sitting in silence|
I stare into the coldness of my heart.
The pain is numbed, now;
For now I am ice.
Ice is pure, and cannot feel;
It can be broken, but not hurt.
I have been hurting for too long.
Now I am only cold.
My fingers, stiff with the touch of frost
And my hands a dull ache
As I seek to warm myself
Wrapping my arms about me
To try to hold in the little warmth left
The little feeling left
Inside this weary heart.
So numb, so tired of it all...
Waiting for a spring thaw
But never knowing how far off it lies.
I am full of winter, full of chill,
And so silent.
No tears left; they have all frozen.
Perhaps one sigh;
My head on my pillow
Trying to shut out the dreams that fill my mind
When I close my eyes.
Memories beyond reach,
Not nightmares, but...
Never quite dreams.
Those are lost now.
They may return, but now...
They are frozen in time and distance.
A soft melody,
An aching sound of sadness,
Whispers in my ears,
Which no longer actively listen
But do not bother to shut out the sounds,
Wearily taking in the mysterious voices
Of remembered times that are near forgotten
But will not disappear.
Words are my only weapon,
And it grows dull at times,
The sheen fading into dim winterness
A winter of the mind,
And of the heart.
Perhaps my soul may hibernate a while;
Maybe it is too much to hope that I may wake healed,
But too much to hope is all I have.
No more tears, for now.
No more heartbreak
When the heart is already broken.
And shivering silence.
I do not ask for comfort,
For none who have offered it
Have been able to give it.
Silence is my closer friend.
It will not fill my heart of frost
With words more empty than my soul.
Like a mirror, I look into myself
And see nothing but mist.
There is no future to be seen, yet;
It hides in the far distance,
Beyond a horizon of snowy cold,
An expanse of frozen silence
Which I must cross in sleeping
In waiting, not doing.
Do not ask me to answer,
For I do not know if I can.
I do not know if I can feel
And if I could,
If I could do aught but hurt.
So I choose to remain numb
In icy stillness
Waiting for the starlight
Before the winter's morn.
Keeper of Hope
|Here's a good example of a poem where I certainly appear to be losing hope, but my spirits were starting to lift near the end. Poetry really can be a healing thing, at least for me...|
|Haunting melodies swirl in my soul|
Like emotions trying to discover themselves,
And I, like a lost one, continue to search
For dreams I had put away on their shelves.
There are some memories that will never die:
A smile from dreams while half asleep,
A tear from knowing it's all right to cry,
And sighs for what I know I can't keep.
Did I ever try to wrap my heart in cotton?
Did I ever try to keep it safe from pain?
There is no way to live while hiding,
And there is no sunshine without the rain.
But there is hope, and always will be,
Like sunsets and teardrops and stars in the sky.
Like the beat of a drum, the beat of my heart,
That rhythm of life is a dance that won't die.
Even the dark side of the moon still sees
The light of the sun when it turns,
And the music of my heart is a fire
That will never, ever cease as it burns.
For no matter what rages inside my head,
The stars can still be reached up above.
And though I am lost for this moment,
Inside my heart there will always be love.
Yes, there is pain, and yes, there is sorrow,
But I never knew a miracle could be this strong.
This love will help me smile on the morrow,
And I won't forget how to sing this song.
For life is a mystery, and always will be,
But some answers were always there.
I'm alive now, and I will be joyful;
There is love in my heart, and I'll always care.
|Another way to deal with sadness, and a realistic view of my own depression. (Yes, sometime even I can be logical.)|
|When your heart is full to overflowing,|
That is the time you are most silent.
Sometimes the feelings are released in tears,
But mostly they are soundless tears.
The heart overflows into silence,
And it's as if a single word would break the spell,
The magic stillness in the air
Like the ripple-less glass of a lonely pool
Untouched by even a breath of wind.
Here the silence can heal,
And your thoughts, left alone, will gradually fall into place.
Perhaps when you choose to break the silence
You will not find life any easier—
But you will know yourself better.
All poetry ©2001 by Amy Unfred