downpour

Some days,

it takes a lot of courage to face even the ordinary things.

Like choosing clothes to wear,

brushing your teeth,

or going down the stairs.

Your mind is foggy and your arms feel heavy

and you can’t for the life of you remember

why you went into the kitchen

in the first place.

You feel heavy with sadness,

With pouring down, pelting, torrential rains of sadness

and it hurts all over.

And it’s frightening that your body should hurt so much,

because it aches and it aches.

It hurts so much that it feels like you have been beaten up

and you look for bruises, because they should be everywhere.

It is nearly impossible to explain to someone who has never felt it:

The absolute exhaustion of doing nothing.

The agony of just existing.

The longing to disappear into some corner,

under some table or desk or bed

until the feelings pass and your head clears

and you want to smile again.

I have felt it. Boy, have I felt it.

And lived it. Year in, year out.

Not wanting to be dead and gone exactly, but just

wishing that I could disappear for a while,

until everything seemed better and I felt different.

I am not feeling it for myself today,

because it has been a blessed while since I had one of those days,

after many many days and years of feeling just like that.

But I am feeling it, like heavy rain pouring down,

for T., and R., and K and B.,

who are in a downpour of sadness.

And I pray that the skies will clear soon.

Because they always do, if we can hang on long enough.

But oh, I so wish they didn’t have to do the time,

waiting for the rain to stop pouring down.