Illusions
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Dripping darkness, doubt, despair
Melancholy, secrets kept
From the heart who knows only
To breathe and believe, to see
What is good and kind and alive
To give – what is moral, upright, polite
Like the miracle of angels passing by
On the way to spread grace, faith
That bends the way the dread
Presses in on the feelings, evokes
Fear that prevents the heart’s mending
River roars, restful, remaining
Reciting the serenity prayer, verses
Stirring silence from the past,
Preparing wisdom to find the truth
The hues of joy – the wonders
Promises pouring from the safety
Beneath wings, faded petals, praises
Aware of the tender thanks, the
Amazing generosity of the lost hope,
The feelings blended with frosty
Mornings, passive notes – songs
Calming the spirit who is so aware
When the moon falls behind the sun
As darkness fades into the summer
Where reassuring warmth plunges the
Thoughts between images of hope
And inspiration to soothe the soul, to grow
Flowers beneath a gentling rainfall, nourishing
Nurturing, reducing the storm’s voice
As it mingles with the rich, cool earth in a song
Oak and pine embrace the sky, abiding
High where there is the knowing, the yearning
For a tomorrow who listens to the winds –
As they shatter the desolation – a tear
Falls silently, quiet as a bipolar’s generational
Disease – shouting through the mood
Swinging in manic misery and shadows
Depressing gloom, swaying in the afternoon
It is the disease that colors the morning
Releasing whispers – sighs of doubt
Discouragement, dismay, darkening details
Discovered amid the wretchedness, desolate
Paltry echoes of emptiness in the thoughts
Who remember only the need, the hardships
The demands of poverty who reaches
Through the constant worry into the pieces
Memories, puzzling insecurities and suspicion
Remembering to reveal the longings
A feeling, emotional and mentally
Drawn into the heavy
Heartbeat of lost dreams, missing peace
Erased by the roaring ache of the darkness
Abiding inside the mind of one who knows
Bipolar disorders brings death to life, signs
Souls with casualties called relationships,
Friends and family – fatalities fresh in the heart
Who knows what it means to never leave
The courtyard of uncertainty where the disease
Is a fog leaving out all the color, the shades of light
Obscured by the shadows, the silhouettes
Who know only to listen to the mania – the anonymous
Kiss from an illness that never feels very real
It is the touch of madness – aggravating the stillness
With a vicious quest for satisfaction – breathless
And filled with prayers for renewal from this darkness
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2022
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