“I don’t know you anymore”,
“You used to go to work every day”,
“You always found new possibilities,
always exploring, never unsure”,
your voice trembling.
“Even grandma said
you’d never stop surprising her,
it was in your DNA”
you were sobbing.
“I don’t understand”
“I’m still here”, I said.
“It’s like a tree in the winter, lifeless…
It’s a tree, nonetheless.
The winter will give way to spring,
the grey branches will turn green
happily bouncing with energy”,
“Summer will follow with bright flowers,
juicy fruits, quenching and deliciously
refreshing”, I think now I was smiling.
“It will still be me in the autumn,
the leaves falling and leaving a warm tapestry
on the floor, made up with coloured patterns
and soft textures”. By now I was convinced.
“Just remember, if winter returns
and I turn blue again, it won’t be permanent”.
This poem refers to the moment when I realised the extent to which my depression was affecting my loved ones, and the moment I decided I had to kick it in the ass – not easy as it sounds here, but a good start.