Everything old is new again; not good.
I wake and sense the return of the old dread, the grief of helplessness.
This is so not good, I tell myself.
I call out to my husband: Bring my Bible, quick!
I repeat the 23rd psalm,
Loudly, desperately, grasping it
like a lifeline.
This is soooooooooo not good.
The autumnal depression is storming me again.
I try to outpace it
like an orphan on a railroad track attempting to outpace a barreling train.
This is soooooooooooooo not good.
Depression, I'd thought we'd parted ways.
So many more rational griefs had my attention
I'd forgotten you.
And suddenly here you are again.
A nameless barreling dread.
For no apparent reason
suddenly returned and hovering
seeping into, flodding into
attempting to conquer me
The fight has come suddenly
I struggle to prepare,
racing about, grabbing armor
like a sentry suddenly awokened out of sleep.
I've said "suddenly" so many times in this poem.
But that's how it feels
this sudden powerful onslaught:
This is soooo not good.