The Six Week Check-Up

She started walking two days after,
running within a week.
Each day she ran those miles faster!
Physically, she would quickly peak.

She ran to combat it,
her becoming a disaster.
She was afraid to bring it up,
she was scared they would ask her.

But even more afraid of that,
she feared that they wouldn’t.
They had to bring it up,
she knew that she couldn’t.

It was hidden inside her,
like a wire wrapping her psyche,
cutting into her brain,
she felt the pressure, tightly.

It just might kill her,
if that wire tightened more.
It would shred her to pieces,
it would sever her core.

You look great! They said.
Her appearance fooled them.
She looked healthy. Strong.
She smiled and wooed them.

But she was not okay.
She was sick, deep inside.
She felt weak. Embarrassed.
The disease was easy to hide.

She was wearing herself to the bone,
running from fear, running for health.
She could not be trusted to be alone,
not with the baby, or her own self.

She wore a mask, to appear in control,
as the docs droned on and on.
They didn’t notice the void behind either eye hole,
or their patient, so withdrawn.

Everything looked good, or so they said.
Amazing! Bravo! Congratulations!
Smiling, the doctor shook her head.
But there were serious internal complications.

They never asked about it,
which she thought was bizarre.
She smiled and left.
And cried in the car.

Don't wait for the doctor to ask you about postpartum depression.  Bring it up yourself.

Don’t wait for the doctor to ask you about postpartum depression. Bring it up yourself.

Don’t Forget.

Don’t forget.

Where you put the keys.

To get the milk.

To turn off the lights.

 

 

Don’t forget.

To say words that are true.

And kind.

And to say them often.

 

 

Don’t forget.

To focus.

On what’s important.

On who’s important.

 

 

Don’t forget.

That inside, somewhere,

Could be the monster

that will erase the past.

 

 

Know today, that I love you.

Delight in you.

And etched in my brain, right now,

Is every bit of you.

 

 

In case I can’t say it tomorrow,

Or the next day.

It’s important, this.

Please honey, don’t forget.

Alzheimer's takes away the past.  Please honey, don't forget.

Alzheimer’s takes away the past. Please honey, don’t forget.

A Bit Of Gray Peeking Out

Don’t you hate?

Heavy lids, dull eyes, jealous heart.

Hateful thoughts, ugly lies escaping.

The stifling cocoon of inadequacy.

Slumping shoulders, curved spine, bent knees.

Longing for the all-consuming comfort of open wounds.

The weight of exhaustion.

 

 

Don’t you love?

A bit of release.

A full intake of breath, balanced with a paired exhale.

A bit of gray peeking out, from behind the black.

Illumination, far ahead.

 

 

Don’t you hope?

For grace.

For even lighter shades of gray.

A better person is waiting for you, ahead.

Dark Night 2

Dark Night 2 (Photo credit: skinner08)

This post is linked up to Love Links #28 – if you like what you see here, vote for me on Thursday.