Day 5: Talking Bridges

Talking Bridges
Cas Reeves 2020
Talking bridges over my troubled waters.
Crossing deserts on word camels.
Strangers who become closer than friends
Carrying the water to my wells.
Sitting, huddled by quiet trees,
Hoping I am hidden from view.
Waiting silently for the next trek
Along another emotional Kokoda.
Drugged and drowsy
To stop the swinging pendulum of mood.
All-day breathing shallow,
Fearful of the shadows
Flicking in the corner 
Of my fretful eyes.
Colouring mandalas 
Like desperate prayers.
Gel pen mantras to safe vacancy.
Tired, a traveller never leaving,
Always on a journey but staying still.
Talking to unravel my wool
But still, 
It’s tangled strings bind.
In the end,
It’s just me 
And my broken mind.
This is one of my most recent poems inspired by all the amazing counsellors and psychologists who keep carrying water to my well so I can take the long journeys towards understanding my mental illness and finding healing. I dedicate this to every counsellor, psychologist, pastor, chaplain, carer, friend and family member who patiently listens over and over to those of us with mental illness. It helps, we are still ill but it does help.
Thank you.

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