The Nature of Depression: A Poem

it sneaks in like the morning fog

softens boundaries and blurs vision

the sun tries in vain to pierce its vapour

instead light refracts in an unending cycle

illuminating the enormity of empty space

walk in the mist

it varies intensity like a spring rain storm

sometimes a gentle mist damp but not drenched

until it changes its mind and forms drops

the size of loonies that flood pathways

and sound like gunfire on the window panes

splash in the puddles

it is constant like the ocean

always there and ever in a state of flux

arcs effected by the push and pull of celestial bodies

the wind elongate waves to create 

skyscrapers of entranced destruction

stand on the shore

it is clever like the echo in a canyon

sounds bounce from rock bluff

to eagle’s nest to packed earth floor

impossible to pin point their exact origins

even with the keenest ears and widest eyes

steer clear of the edge

it is like a lonesome robin back too early

when winter isn’t yet finished

in the ice crusted mornings it darts

to and fro searching for insects that haven’t yet hatched

alone on a branch the grass the wire the wall the fence

the sky the house 

but it’s not alone

it’s with you

Copyright Cheryl Folland 2020

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