This is a poem about the morning after I got out of the hospital.
|Turn on the monitor, then the computer.
It is so empty in this house.
Put the over-the-ear headphones in,
Turn on the wireless mouse.
Set the iPod to play Linkin Park,
Light the candle. Sandalwood.
Strike the wooden match, mmph,
The smell of burning sulfur, wood.
The match flares bright, tip the candle.
The flame is mesmerizing, wax pools.
Cleared off a place on my cluttered desk
To have this flame as my guest, this jewel.
Sit quietly, writing, my soul needs to speak,
To say something to stay alive.
The medication has made me comfortably numb,
But detached, my mood is taking a dive.
I am calm, not afraid, not anxious, not excitable,
Just medicated, the way a sick animal is,
But that is what I am, technically -
A mentally ill mammal that needs this.
Just got out of the hospital. They let me go
Yesterday. Today, I have to go back to life.
This candle and this Bible are my only company.
The suicide feelings are causing more strife.
The white and silver iPod rests on my desk,
Sending the signals to my ears.
My friend bought me that iPod for my birthday,
I have been alive for 31 years.
I missed that while I was in the hospital.
Having that iPod. What a tiny bit of happiness,
But it made all the difference in the world
When I got home, that I could decompress.
Doctors, chaplains, pastors, nurses,
All dressed in their best professional dress,
Helping me get through the darkness that is
My past and my future unless there is redress.