Jim Taylor's Columns - 'Soft Edges' and 'Sharp Edges'

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Dec

2018

Depression

A friend is going through a deep depression. I tried to imagine myself inside his skin, and out came another poem. It begins

Dimness descends like a curtain.

Murk buries me, plugs my nostrils,

seals my ears; I hear nothing,

not even my own thoughts.

I wallow in my private pig-sty.

I want to move, but my muscles

have turned to water; every step feels like

wading in molasses....

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Categories: Poetry