Depression? and other poems.

Dear Readers,

theokwek's parents have left for China, where they'll be doing medical mission work among the villages. do pray for them!

on a side note, here's a poem about depression, inspired - or prompted - by theokwek's conversation with a suicidal friend (the second he's talked to). in it, theokwek records his responses to his friends laments, and sincerely hopes that he find once again the value of life.

the poems after that are inspired by a Chinese creative writing talk which theokwek took part in today. none of the below happened to theokwek, but rather, come from his observations of others. enjoy!

When the singing bluebird fails to sing,

The Straight Times Editor

Depression

 

and so now you know

what it’s like to have tears

gushing across – and off

– your face

like the morning rain;

what it’s like to slam your

eyes shut, and comfort yourself

with the snarling of a black cat

who has been unearthed

                in the darkness.

 

I don’t know how you feel

all the time, hating

music, heaven, God, the world,

                and all that in them is.

isn’t it tiring, lifting

the weight of everything you see

on those shoulders?

 

It’s no surprise you’re close

to shattering point. even

Atlas, prop of the heavens,

could not compare with the weight

that the world has piled on you,

or perhaps,

                that you have piled on yourself.

 

I’d imagine

something terrible must’ve happened

to you, in the not-so-distant

history of time. In it,

you met a thief who

robbed you of joviality, laughter,

optimism, love; and

thus you can’t help but

feel that all meaning

has escaped with all those.

 

To be exhausted

                is to be human;

and I hope you get a good rest

as you sign off from where

you can be comforted

                by faceless friends,

and enter into where sleep

becomes sweet consolation

for not being loved

                (or the perception of it)

 First encounters

 

The lights glare at you

as you stand talking to

her in the aisle of that

rapidly-filling lecture

theatre. (it is said that

life is a stage, and on this

one more than a divine

comedy is being played)

 

The mixed emotions –

uncertainty, coupled with joy

and perhaps embarrassment? –

are further blurred by the

happy Strauss Waltz soundtrack

that blasts Blue Danube from

unseen loudspeakers. 

Self-conciousness.

 

a dozen faceless people

whom you’ve never met before

(and probably never will again)

examine you through unfamiliar

glasses. You think they’re laughing

in those curious eyes at your

tasteless sense of fashion. Just

who do you think you are?