Edible Pulse

 

I originally saw this posted on a friend’s blog and timeline The Last Krystallos. As I read her words on the subject matter and about the project #InShadowSelfie, I decided to pass this along and participate.

As a lover of poetry and sufferer of anxiety disorder and clinical depression, I felt compelled to write it out.

 

Edible Pulse

It’s raining again,
and my face is fixed.

A vacant stare
I’ve adopted

when I want to see
but look at nothing.

I can hear the pattern
and it reminds me

of boiling lentils in a pot.
I give way to tears

and lend them company
on my pillow. Sluice of silent

sorrow as I lay to sleep.
Storm of spring’s midst,

droplets punctuate
my windowpane

little periods
never a question,

reminding me,
of the thumping

no one can hear;
The pulse of inadequacy

nestled in my veins.
The black box inside

my mind obscures
the view, distorts

daydreams, and suffocates
my flailing limbs.

Then I wake
and all begins again.

©Grace Black

Writing is one of the ways I manage and cope, and I encourage others to give it a try. I began Three Line Thursday to give back in some way, reach out, connect with others, and encourage a positive environment for expression. Come lay down ink…