Depression Poem by Heatherlee Eldridge
Depression
Lately when asked, how are you I respond with words no longer living.
passion, romance, affection, acceptance
I am alive by choice at this point. I wonder often; if the gun that will unmake me is yet made, what baleful birth will bury me,
How many bullets, like a flock of blackbirds, will come carry my depression to its final bed.
Which photo will be used to water down my blood. Today I did not die and there is no god or law to thank the bullets missed my head,
and landed in another. Today I passed a mirror and did not see a body, instead a suggestion, a debate,
a blank post-it note there looking back.
I haven't enough room to rage and weep. I go to cry and each tear turns to steam.
I say "I matter" and a cold ghost hand appears over my mouth.
Hettie, I don't mean to interfere, but I received this link. I took a chance and came to you three times this year when you needed me. I like you, I admire you. You're beautiful, kind, intelligent and resilient. With hope you can find your way in a cruel and impatient world. I have been proud to hold your hand, and so happy in your arms. Hettie, call me or come to my office, day or night, if you need a friend. Why? I too have suffered from depression, and lost a friend to suicide.
Depression is treatable these days reach out for help.If you had any other illness would you not seek treatment?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 8:45:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Heather I miss you so much. I am sorry I was not there for you. May you finally find your peace in heaven. RIP my childhood friend. I love you. 💔😢