Voices: “Close”

Here is the second poem in this month’s series. It’s closely related to the first; an intimate description of major depression, though this piece actually brings it to the point of suicidality. This describes a time when I was so desperately despondent, so hopeless and alone, that I was almost detached from reality. Cutting was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive, jolted me back to the present moment. I wanted someone to notice those screaming red wounds, but at the same time I just wanted to be left alone to die. You get to a point where it really doesn’t matter either way; save me or don’t, I don’t care. It’s difficult to imagine this kind of depression if you’ve never experienced it. I hope this poem goes a little way toward explaining it.

6/24/04

Close

 

Inside these walls, a perpetual night

I live in the darkness to stay out of sight

I flinch around others, can’t handle the light

It’s all so intrusive, too loud and too bright

At the threshold of hell I hover so close

Deeply disturbed, tormented, morose

Spiraling down, to this pain I succumb

Breaking the point at which I will turn numb

Chillingly silent, nightmarishly black

Blood’s the one thing to which I react

I use the cool blades to keep me alive

The physical sting on which I thrive

By turns sobbing wildly, then hardening to stone

In mercurial madness I suffer alone

Planning the moment at which all this will end

Towards my departure I slowly descend

Time starts to melt, twist in on itself

I’m beginning to think that I might need some help

They’ll get one last chance to see I’m still here

Though dwindling faster than they ever feared

I step out at the close, my last chance to survive

I dare someone to notice that I’m still alive

For if no one does, then I’ll know what to do

The shadow will fall, and I will be through

© Sarah Ann Henderson