Poetry Hour: Entry 13 - Buried Alive

A poem like this deserves context. Maybe so people don't freak out and send help. Please don't. I already have that.

Though this poem is dark, I'm alright. I assure you. However, the feelings are real and the words come from a place of depth, of meaning, of fear, of human condition and weakness.

I had a spiritual high very recently - not two months ago. But with a high such as that, I worried during it what the dry season afterwards would look like. I know these things come in waves; I was bound to come down sometime... I just didn't know how far down I'd fall. 

Well, I couldn't help it quite honestly. My anxiety from the past began to come back and this time with a friend called depression. I believe this poem kind of describes what it's like within it, at least for me. It sounds similar to when I wrote about my anxiety attack, because it is similar. They are different though. I've never been, at least in my adult life, in this place before, as low as I am. I would say it's a lot of apathy towards myself paired with the onset of random sadness, mostly occurring when I'm alone.

Now, to end, hear this: my current condition doesn't mean I love God any less or am trusting him any less than I did when I was on top of that mountain with him. That's not what depression or anxiety is. On the contrary, we two are pushing through this. I am yoked with him and I look forward to see how he works, because he is so strong and so good. So very good. 

Buried Alive

It's getting harder to hide. 

I'm falling apart on the inside.

It's a speeding car without breaks

heading straight 

for a brick wall. 

Maybe if you were to call 

out to me I'd break free; 

finally flee 

from this speed 

and just slowly bleed 

in your arms. 

But I'm not pretty enough for you to want to save me; 

I've got nothing in the way of charms. 

So I'll just crash like crazy 

and hope I don't cause any harm.

It's in a shell I recoil; 

a breathing corpse grasping at the soil. 

I'm in a body unwanted, 

soul haunted 

with pain and grief. 

Maybe, for a moment brief, 

you would attempt to see 

the depth of me 

that lies 'neath 

the shroud of my teeth 

gleaming bright. 

But my smile has always been a kind of release for them;

I've given every inch of my light.

So I'll keep my sorrow hidden

and hope they aren't feeling my fight.

It's suffocating, the ground -

the dirt so thick you can't hear a sound.

I'm choking on rocks in my throat;

my lungs coat

with the dark grave

that slips and begins to cave

in on the hollow bones 

shaking alone

in my skin;

the air growing thin

without you.

But because I still lie alive in this body of death

I find a longing still lingers through.

So I'll savor every single one of my breaths 

and claw away to a surface new.