For some, depression is a Black Dog that
pads resolutely alongside them, a hound of shadow and sorrow relentlessly stalking
their steps, unable to be shaken off or shooed away. For me, it is a Lady, a Lady
of Dark Despair, whose great wings enfold me unexpectedly in their terrible shadows
of doom and doubt.
MY LADY OF DARK DESPAIR
My Lady of Dark Despair, why have you
encompassed me once more
With your black-plumed wings of grim
shadow and spirit-numbing gloom,
Their enveloping, all-embracing pinions of
cool ebony extinguishing all light from my life,
All wisdom from my world, all memory from
my mind, all salvation from my soul?
I feel your icy tears like disconsolate,
dispassionate dewfall,
Trickling ever deeper into the warm,
sunlit sanctuary of my heart,
To freeze it in crystalline cemetery night-chill,
Until its very beating seem stilled and
silent.
Am I as pale, as pellucid now, as your own
pallid complexion and reflection,
As isolated, as insular, as the sorrowful
realm in which you reign supreme,
Alone, apart, aloof from the mortals whom you
torment with your denying of hopes,
Your destruction of dreams, your
despoiling of memories?
Or will I find the strength within my
being to dismiss your dread visage,
To discount your intrusive murmurs of doubt, to disdain your grey forebodings of doom,
And turn away from your darkness, from the sadness that your presence imbues,
And step back into the laughter and the light of the world once more,
Where the sun still shines, the moon still
shimmers, the stars still sparkle,
And my soul awakens anew, renewed and
restored,
Raised up once more upon the bright wings
of recalled, recollected, resurrected Hope,
To greet a new day's golden dawning, with
all of its wonders awaiting me there?
