No Idea Why She Is Depressed
She is eleven, depressed.
Yet she has no idea why.
She has mentioned suicide to others,
Not to me though.
She is a crying machine lately.
No one knows why.
I lead her out of the bathroom
Where she is crouched on the floor, sobbing.
She can never pinpoint why she is sad.
But I see it in her eyes,
And I hear it in her sobs.
Today I asked her “no death, hospitalizations, divorce?”
She begins to sob again.
Her favorite cousin died in May.
He shot himself with a gun his daddy left out.
They had a balloon celebration for him this weekend
On what should have been his fourth birthday.
I begin to cry with her.
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