Tag Archive | depression

Villanelle For “The Black Dog” (version 2)

weepingbuddha

 

You’ll go through each motion, one by one,

As dark night gives way to blacker day.

You begin with “I’ll live,” as you’ve always done.

 

Pull the cord, raise the blinds, turn away from the sun.

Step into the shower.  Coat the  pain in wet spray.

You must go through each motion, one by one.

 

Clothing. Face. Don’t cry or mascara will run.

Room’s a damn mess. Make the bed anyway.

Mutter “I’ll live. I’ve always done.”

 

Don’t break the routine or the black dog might run

Up your back, clamp his teeth, rip the mask clean away.

So just go through each motion, one by one.

 

It’s not like you’re out buying pills or a gun.

Safety comes from not wanting to cause a display.

Keep on with “I’ll live.” As you’ve always done.

 

 You’ve been here before, seen how the thing’s done,

Studied the lines, know the acts of the play:

You’ll go through each motion, one by one

And repeat, “I’ll live.” As you’ve always done.

Sit, Black Dog, Sit

My, I have been silent a long time, haven’t I?

St_Johns_dog

The image of depression as a black dog is usually that of a Baskerville-like hound, running at the heels, biting and snapping. And yet that seems terribly active for the depressed state, one where the sufferer is more likely to simply wait to be devoured than to run away.

My black dog seems more likely to settle in at my side, head dropped on paws, unmoving and unmovable. He just sits. Is he waiting for me to make the first move so he can then spring up to block my way, stopping any forward progress I might try to make? No, I don’t think so. He knows I’m not going anywhere; he knows I don’t have the mental energy. He’s really quite content to hang with me, to be my wing man (if that’s not too confusing a metaphor for a dog). When he nestles beside me, my black dog of depression seems almost calm and friendly rather than threatening and ravening.

He sits. I sit. I do what has to be done. And when I return from those chores, he’s there, waiting and sitting. If I stumble into a burst of activity, he isn’t threatened. My black dog knows I’ll be back, that I’ll always return to him. And sit with him. And he will sit with me. Calm. Strong. Stronger than I. Lowered head, sad eyes, knowing eyes. How could I ever leave him?

Villanelle For The Black Dog (First Draft)

weepingbuddha

 

You will go through each motion, one by one,

As gentle night gives up to brutal day.

And repeat, “I’ll live.” As you’ve always done.

 

Pull the cord of the blinds, turn your back to the sun,

Step into the shower, dissolve in the spray.

You will go through each motion, one by one.

 

“Get over yourself; go have some fun.

Can’t be depressed with a smile!” silly optimists say.

Just repeat, “I’ll live.” As you’ve always done.

 

It’s not like you’re out buying pills or a gun.

You’ve never been one to make a display.

You still go through each motion, one by one.

 

You’ve been here before, and at least you’ve begun,

Studied the lines, know the acts of the play:

Just repeat, “I’ll live.” As you’ve always done.

 

Yes, you’ll go through each motion, one by one

And repeat, “I’ll live.” As you’ve always done.