Sharing from my many shelves of journals. The mostly biographical poetry and writing of an Australian Christian woman living with schizoaffective disorder.
Hope, That Little Bird
Cas Reeves 2012
I, myself, a poem and I,
We will write, what we will.
Days pass slowly.
Weeks go fast.
Months flash.
A moment and years have passed.
No soma to comfort,
But Valium works.
High blood.
High sugar.
Nerves of glass and silk.
My sail to the wind of God
My eyes closed
Reading the ancient texts
Of woe and rapture.
Hope, the little bird,
Stronger than the snow,
Stays through the blizzard of woe
Depression robs you of life, time, meaning. It can blow in like a blizzard of woe and stay for months. I end up locked in a cabin in my mind, and all I can do is colour in and watch Netflix and wait for it to lift. I try to set my sail to the wind of God but not a breeze stirs. I listen to scripture but feel like I absorb nothing. Sometimes all you have is hope, and you hold that little half-frozen bird in your hands and pray it won’t die.
Cheryl Reeves Writing - from my shelves of journals 