Hormonal winter

The bleak, black land
is stormridden with tears
that do not irrigate the earth
but fall helplessly
from bruise-heavy skies.

To the mist-clogged senses
trees appear like monsters
with ravening branches.
Friends have the faces of enemies.
And reason is too exhausted
to deny these illusions
the belief that nourishes
their tormenting forms.

The bright galloping of life
is mired. And even if hope
does not sink forever
its flanks are stained by
the suction of despair.

Here the ghosts walk,
their magnified voices
turned harsh and cruel
by the echoing loneliness
of this deep chasm
between unscalable cliffs.

The wanderer knows
the valley will end
in a bright hot tide.
Yet that’s poor consolation
to feet still waterlogged,
plodding on through the dark
of grey mud
and tears.

Still, the feet plod.

This responds to the Tuesday Title prompt at Poefusion. I’ve had some very bad episodes of PMT, of the depressed rather than irritable variety. One day I would be fine, the next day it would be as if the sky had fallen on my head. And I wanted to capture something of how it feels to have your moods overcome by negativity that is too pervasive to fight, even when you know exactly what is happening and why you are reacting in that way.


4 responses to “Hormonal winter

  1. And, maybe your feet will plod into sunnier days soon. I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough go of it lately. Hope things look up soon. As for your poem it is certainly one of your stronger ones. Hope you have better days.

  2. Thanks Michelle. Actually the time I was thinking about was last winter and spring – with a little medical help I’m now much better. But for a while it was truly dreadful!

  3. I think you captured that moodiness, that dark moment when you can’t control your emotions or even your own thoughts, I see hope in the last part, you’re still able to continue, the poem isn’t as bleak as when it started

  4. Wow. Very dark and descriptive of the mental states we sometimes find ourselves wandering through. Excellent.


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