I lie in a pit staring up at the sky,

wondering if cloud faces passing by

can see my lips move (no sound)

might even let someone know where

to find me, so scared, frightened,

unable to move, every limb refusing

to answer frantic screams for help 

from a mind whose live connections

all but severed by its distress

Clinging on to a failing willpower,

I feel my frail grasp slipping in this,

what must surely be my coffin?

Yet, it’s not my past I see unfolding

before my eyes, only blank sheets

of paper…slowly coming to life, words

I can’t quite make out but vaguely

recognize shapes comprising a prose

and poetry ascribed to nature

All my eyes cannot see, my heart

begins to acknowledge as the words

(now bombarding all my senses)

demand entry at the doors of a mind

shut by fear and excuses, forcing

it ajar, piling in like old friends arriving

at a reunion, faces in the clouds

taking on human form, Earth Mother

resolved to be kind but firm

Hostage, empowered to go free again

from a dark prison called depression