By Cynthia Cady Stanton | Featured Contributor
In this moment,
I can see You.
I can feel You.
You are in my deepening breath.
You are the pause between my thoughts.
You are the beat in my heart.
You are the warmth in my touch.
You are the whispers that call my name.
By Cara Amy Goldthorpe | Featured Contributor
One step
I take, and another
Towards this light
Pulling me on
One step
Through a tunnel of shadow
Pain and burden
I feel before I rise
By Skye Emerson | Featured Contributor
Once there was optimism to see silver laced clouds
til the world shook on its axis and decidedly bowed.
Psychosis (they say) is to go quite insane,
lose touch with reality, but they never mention the pain.
When all that is true breaks at the seams,
life becomes survival, desperation and screams.
Mistrusting your judgement since all you see is false,
no more gut feelings to rely on, you’ve got to just halt.
Buried beneath the weight of taunting monsters and more,
the theories roll, there is no staunching it despite how you implore.
Continue reading “‘Lovely Psychosis’ – Directions for Survival [a poem]”
By Bernard Demaere | Featured Contributor
Let me take the time
To look into your soul
Into your window
Perhaps I will see
Your loneliness
Your fear
The emptiness of
Your life.
Let me help you
Find the answer
You need
To live in the fullness
And find joy and love.
By Birdie Fudge | Featured Contributor
Not too long ago, I went on medication for the first time for my major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety. I wrote poems every day, starting from the first day I took the pill. I used my poetry to track my mood and the timeline of the medicine taking effect. When I look at the poetry written during the beginning of that journey and compare it to now, it’s as if two different people are speaking. This poem is how I feel now. My other poem, “Happy Pill,” reflects how I felt in the beginning of my journey.
By Cynthia Cady Stanton | Featured Contributor
The glimmers of light
are blooming.
The warmth of healing
is touching my skin.
A new day is dawning
for all to see.
A new day is dawning
for all to heal.
Fragments of moons past
sketch silhouettes of
a scenery divine.
A daytime reverie.
Fond memory.
A granddaughter missing you.
Do you recall, grandma?
Long ago, a grandbaby born
into an era of bitter lack,
that enriched by your presence,
comforting embrace,
renewed to an age of precious worth?
