Many people with depression face the multiple injustices of social stigma and the basic assumptions that they are weak and lazy. I wrote this poem over twenty years ago to illustrate just how much strength is required to begin even one day with this disease.
A Morning Journey
She cries, for winter is all that she sees.
The bleak, wind swept woods chill her to the bone,
No sun, no warmth, no reprieve.
Her head bowed low, she trudges on,
Each step more difficult than the last.
But still she continues for to quit would mean the end,
A lonely grave to which no one would ever attend.
She screams with the pain of the journey,
Though no sound passes her lips.
All alone, the wind's words whistle through her head.
Fear of what's around the next bend haunts her,
But still she trudges on, for she is not yet dead.
She resolves that the journey will not beat her,
Though the load she carries is great.
Her flagging steps quicken even while her strength seeps away.
One last push and she'll make it,
She will not lose today.
Gritting her teeth, she bows her head lower,
Then she pushes the bed covers away.
Birds sing, sun streams - It's time to face a new day.
DDZeilman
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