Depression

All my pictures now are twisted;

I have lost hold of what was truth.

I know that I’m growing older;

And that I’ve lost the strength youth.

My pictures that are fantasies

Obliterate reality:

I cannot tell the good from bad;

I’m having trouble knowing me.

The preacher tells me that I’ve sinned;

And I have no rebuttal there;

For sometimes I will question grace

And ask God if he really cares.

When morning dawns with darkness,

And I cannot get out of bed,

Lying there, the darkness deepens;

I sometimes wish that I were dead.

But life lies there beside of me,

Oblivious to my pain:

I must rise in my depression,

Get up, and face the world again.

©2012, Qoheleth