Poetry: Take that pain and harness it

‘Poetry and beauty are born out of pain. This is their glory, this is our gain .’
S. Tarr

I was scrolling through my notes app and found some old poetry I had written when I was going through my rebirth – I think that is more fitting than nervous breakdown at this point in my journey. I’ve read many times that art is meant to be shared so as I take this weekend to devote to all things that give me balance here ya go. My art in words.

What is it that torments my mind an soul
It creaps in when least expected
Surrounds my heart
Crushes my love
Darkens my aura
A dark angel trapped by the light for so long 
Now emerges to hurt those I love
To take from me what I took 
Always battle
Why must I be condemned to this madness and torture
It’s a heavy burden to place upon me by love

I must let her rescue me. 
Go with her. Submit.
Fall into her. 
I will. 

Should I trust her?
She has lied before.
Come with me she says,
I will carry your burden.

She is weak,
Yet I am weaker.
This she quietly speaks
Yet it’s my wings clenched in her fist. 

You are strong
Echoes from the past.
Fight damn it! Fight!
It’s a dream they scream. 

She draws closer.
Her gravity pulls me in.
I’m too weak.
But a pulse of my wings…

The echoes of wind grow louder
Screaming from within
She cowers

Eyes wide closed,
You – the monster are there 
Banging at the wall 
That she survives behind in fear. 

Scared and timid
Bound and praying for someone to save her
From you – the monster 
That took more from her than we can ever see.

Forgive they demand of her
The choice is not hers though
The words refuse to escape
Trapped and bound in the fabric of her mind.

It feeds her rage 
For it violently escapes when she tries to run
She has become 
The monster she survived in fear. 


The guilt that motherhood brings,
The stress of being me,
The sounds of the trucks outside my window,
The voices of strangers inside my home,
The racing of my heart,
The inability to focus on anything,
The smell of the dog,
The missed kiss from my husband,
The missed appointment because people are too sharp today and I’m too soft,
The emails piling up from a business I no longer want,
The peace lost from the war in my head.
This is anxiety. 
This is me.


A curse of perfection 
She’s dying 
Every cell and memory
A choice there should be. 

Death or a miracle. 

The taller she stands | Hands tight around her neck | Rain comes with force
The water is rising | Hope is drowning with her | She bows down |
Water rushes in | Shallow breaths| Strength fading. 

A boat rotting with regret
Comes to save her

Waves are raging | She fights with her soul | Her voice cries freedom
Crushing under perfection | Back bent | Hands tight | Water rises | Hope is drowning.

A miracle wildly adrift.



Shaking legs

Tightening jaws

Breathing slows 


Oxygen shortness

No answers

Tears of fear

Silently screaming

Unable to move

A Monster 

Spinning round

Trapped in my closet with her.