On The Bravery in Taking Medication for Your Mental Illness #1

This is the first spring when I haven't felt
Dragged through slush under truck tires

When the trees blossom and pear flowers sprinkle the grass like strange snowflakes
I normally sink into a slow and oily pit of blackness:
Backward hibernation,
I don't want to see the way the world creates a reflection of new-life when I
Feel dead inside,

I prefer Autumn:
Leaves peeling from the trees and scattering their beauty beneath them -
I leave a trail of Beauty but my branches are empty...

This year is different.

For the first time since I was fifteen I have been able to appreciate
The purple of the violets
As they protrude passionately from the neighbor's knoll-y yard,
I breathe in annoying pollen and somehow the smell is fresh
Instead of obnoxious.

I don't know what healing looks like,
But maybe it feels like seeing spring.

To Lie Upon a Rock

To lie upon a rock
Stomach up
Facing the sun
In summer time temperatures
That somehow invaded February

To lie upon a rock
And feel the cold water lick your toes
And caress the bottoms of hot feet

To lie upon a rock
And stare at the clouds
Balls of white fur
Moving in time to some other orchestral conductor

To lie upon the rock
To listen
To notate
To meditate
To swoon
To sleep
To sigh
To understand

Entwining your scalding skin
And sunglass-ed face
In new warm luscious coolness
And hard smooth/rough embrace

To lie upon a rock
And linger
Living
Once upon a time
Today.