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

shortcomings 

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

biodegrade

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