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
Written 2/20/99
| 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. |
Written 1/22/99
| 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. Haunting half-visions, 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. Only quiet, 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
Written 1/20/99
| 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:
Did I ever try to wrap my heart in cotton?
But there is hope, and always will be,
Even the dark side of the moon still sees
For no matter what rages inside my head,
Yes, there is pain, and yes, there is sorrow,
For life is a mystery, and always will be, |
Meditation
Written 6/27/97
| 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