Tuesday, 2 April 2013
NaPoWriMo2013 - part one. On day two. Oops.
I don't profess to be a poet, or to be capable of writing a poem with any skill or reverence. I loved doing the NaNoWriMo in 2011, and wanted to take part, again, last year but I didn't feel able to do it because of a certain Noristerat injection, which caused suicidal thoughts, along with the too-familiar depression and anxiety. It didn't help my endometriosis symptoms much, either. Failed treatment number 423.
So, then, here is my first "bit" to be followed, hopefully, by more. I may or may not post each poem I cobble together.
Words were never enough
To explain my gratitude
For the precious time and care and kindness
Lisa continuously showed
To me, my Mum, my family,
To people she'd never met.
That kindness never waned
And I shan't ever forget
How tightly she held me when I felt
I had to leave the party, because
My anxiety built and I had to get out
But immediately, I wished I'd stayed inside
To spend more precious time with her.
I crocheted her some flowers,
And made a card or two
Because I felt I had to do something
But I just didn't know what to do.
I still feel I should have said or done more
But what? I don't know. Do you?
My sub-standard health can take over, and
Days, and weeks, and months seem to
Disappear like vapour, leaving me
Wondering, "What the hell happened?
I've done nothing and been nowhere".
Notebooks were opened and
Many sentences begun with hopes of
Train journeys to London and
Exciting days with friends, but that
Optimism has been crossed out.
I've rewritten and ended
Those sentences and lists
Of where I want to go,
But there's always a part of my mind reminding me
It's hard for my body,
Which I always know.
Last week was hard,
For my body and for my mind,
Riding on trains and buses,
Seeing recognisable skylines.
I was in a busy, cold, and unfamiliar city,
Familiar faces were there,
Heads down, crying, sitting
Together for their hardest day yet.
So much love, and devotion,
Compassion, and grief
For a woman so wondrous,
So funny, and passionate,
So loving, so generous.
It's the middle of the night,
And here I sit, tapping my phone
All alone but for a cat and insomniacs' news.
I'm piling hope upon hope that my sleep might arrive soon.
Lisa was the one who inspired me to write,
To begin my blog about depression,
And endo, to talk about my life as it really is,
And through it, I learned
New ways of "self-expression",
I learned new ways of writing and "met" people
I never would've before,
And if that's all she gave me
I'd be grateful, but there's so much more
She maybe never knew she did for me,
For my Mum and my Dad.
I can't thank her now, but I wish, more than words can say,
That I had.