A shadow on the Sun
A catharsis, hopefully?
Era of solitary confinement, where my soul has gone:
Countries, both so vastly different, so unnervingly the same,
Lost homes I never had and never did exist, everywhere I look there's scorn
I'm not what I thought I was, not magnificence, not only shame
Picture the Moon chasing the Sun, only catching up to be forlorn,
Sierra Madre bound, all my family looks up, never to see me nor fame,
Everything I left behind: turns out I was only meant to be as fleeting as a shadow on the Sun
~*~
Thank you for reading my poem. This one is a particularly difficult one for me to put out there, given that I used the eclipse as a metaphor for my depression. Living with chronic pain and mental illness is not easy for anyone, and the kind of scrutiny that we are often put under tends to make it even harder. I want to explore mental health with my writing, both for my own healing and for anyone else who might need a catharsis.
If you enjoyed my piece, a heart, a comment or an insight would be much appreciated. A donation in support of my writing journey would also be welcome if you feel so inclined.
As for my depression, sometimes I can manage better than others, so here's one of my positive pieces on the subject, in case you wish to read more.
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More stories from Sandra Tena Cole and writers in Poets and other communities.
My Tolerated Self
I'd like to think I'd escape for better days. Even though the needles pricking into my skin may urge me to stay put, we are not meant for boxes and contraptions that will keep us inside. The needles aren't real, they are like bugs crawling on my skin—those feelings will fade with clarity, but some days I am unwilling to step outside of my tolerated self; my bones crumble at the idea of a future uncertain. I'm used to the boxes that keep me in place even though I know I can walk right through them and I'd be fine.
By Andi Leigh3 days ago in Poets
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
I'm so sorry for what you're going through 🥺 I hope writing this was therapeutic for you. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
I don’t know what to say but want to give you my support. You’re a great writer, Sandra. Thank you for sharing this.
Excellent Sandra. Everyday, I see first-hand how debilitating it is for someone to live with major depression and chronic pain. It is not easy. I feel for you. Thank you for sharing this part of your life with us in such a creative manner.
I am glad that you put this out, it has great power, and I shape you have the support you need