Depression
All posts tagged Depression
Mourning
Published May 1, 2013 by rlmcdermottyou make dinner
you wash the dishes
you set the clock
you lock the door
you go to bed
this is all about being alive
the small gestures
the unconscious acts
the slow forgetting
someone you love has died
when will love return
do you miss it more
than you miss him
even the birds are
silent in this mourning
you listen for their song
suddenly the sun
Writing Poems In Tokyo
Published March 8, 2013 by rlmcdermottcan you find them
laying loose on the ground
letters about color
color about words
words about you
what a fool
I’ve been to think
that language
can save me
that love can fall
from the sky
and make poems
out of glass and steel and concrete
an old man sat beside me on a traffic island
somewhere between Tokyo Station and Ginza
he smiled
I threw a word at him
he caught it in his hat
he knew me for what I was
someone who would always be waiting
Words
Published March 8, 2013 by rlmcdermottI am thinking
a poem can save love
a poem can save a life
I open the book
I close the book
the man across the hall
is crying out blue words
I do not speak his language
knotted words are
tightening in his chest
what keeps the
secret of a heart
a poem
a song
a picture
folded in a well-worn wallet
who are these women
and what do they mean to him
I open the book
I close the book
not even love can save a life
We Go Along
Published November 29, 2012 by rlmcdermottwe go along
as if nothing
is happening
as if the cancer
is a dream
and we can
wake up
and you’ll
be there
young and strong
today
I drew a picture
I wrote a poem
I peeled an orange
and listened to a song
these things I do
while you fight
to stay alive
the picture wasn’t beautiful
the poem didn’t rhyme
the orange was sour
and the song
there are no songs
that can comfort you
you are the one
who is fighting
for your life
a visit from a friend
tickets to a Giant’s game
your wife’s smile
these are the things
you do while I fight
to stay alive
two diseases
both cruel
mine is a secret
your’s belongs to the world
you long to be private
while I long to be seen
The Apple Tree
Published June 12, 2012 by rlmcdermottWhen I was
seventeen
I was old–
a girl in a window
about to be brought
and sold by grief.
The tree across
the street
knew my name
and called
it every night
to comfort me–
a murmuring refrain
of leaf on leaf.
I asked it questions,
will I be happy,
will I find love,
will I survive,
until it could
not answer–
so overwhelmed
it ceased to sing
and stood silent.
My only friend,
that tree, stopped
singing to me
because it could
not bear my sadness;
and in the fall it fell,
yellow, gold and red,
it bent its head
and wept us both
into a living death.
rlmcdermott 