In Praise of My Depression

i set aside the pills
and settle,
like a leaf in a pond,
into the absence of color.

i am aware of the dangers,
and aware, too,
of the blessed relief 
of authentic being,
with all its
and quotidian terrors.

able at last to settle 
for who i am,
i discover that
it isn't so bad.

this scrim of suffering

is only that,
a scrim,
a veil,

a partition between
what one might wish 
and whatever may be.

Certain that we 
deserve better 
than to be separated
from our ideals,
we medicate our way
to a pale perfection, 
consisting of timidity
and troubled sleep.

evening by placid evening,
we become strangers to ourselves,
Lonely for something similar to a memory,
"liking" other lonelinesses

while the books
on the shelves.

i have been away from myself.
coming back from the long journey
into the second dimension,
i inhale 
into the gray
of a soft, perpetual grief --

and am grateful.

--Mr. Gobley