Hillman’s Demons: A Poem on Depression
By Chris Reed | Featured Contributor
James Hillman told me
the demons will come
at night in old age,
and will settle
on my bed,
on my chest,
in my hair,
in my head,
in my guts,
and prod me awake.
Befriend them he says.
They are your demons.
They are here to help.
And know you are
enough worn with years
to be not afraid.
Drink tea.
Pay heed.
Converse.
If you look them in the eye,
know you’ll soon be gone,
so don’t care what they think,
they will give you quarter
and disarm.
Then you can hold them close,
like children,
with sharp claws and teeth,
and comfort them.
For their torments are yours;
their shadows are your shadows.
Hand in hand in the night,
no one is afraid of the dark.
