Poetry has always been a prevalent part of my life and mental health. While I haven’t seriously written in some time, I try and get the juices flowing whenever possible. Taking a writing class focused on poetry has helped to push me toward writing more regularly again and I’ve decided to finally share some of my work here.
This poem actually coincides with my “Dear Fifteen” letter from a few weeks ago. It was written around the same time and serves as a closer examination of my depression during that year. The content is raw and was challenging for me to read in class, let alone at the Poetry and Philosophy conference last night. However, it has become very important to me and where I am in my life currently. To have come so far in a decade is remarkable, considering at that time I wanted nothing more than to die. I no longer wish for death and “Fifteen” helped to reify that.
I hope you enjoy this poem. There is so much pain and uncertainty lurking within the lines, but there is also so much hope. While I wish I could read it to my fifteen year old self, the experiences and journeys I have taken over the past ten years have been paramount. I don’t think this piece could exist if not for the incredible people I’ve met and hardships I’ve conquered.
My philosophy concerning poetry has always sought universality. Whenever I write, there is an attempt to not only tell my story and employ my emotions, but to present it in a way that other people can connect to. Every time I create art, my hope is that someone, somewhere can connect to it. Hopefully this one serves as no exception.
“Fifteen”
If I could simply impart to you the person you’ve become,
you would hold belief in the palms of your hands, cradling dreams
turned to nightmares. I still hear the cries and silent sobs,
performed for a singular injury, a suspicious jury; crisp
visions seared within the iris. But I promise you, this ends.
Those years spent stripping bark from the base of your favorite tree.
Building vessels out of vitriol, to set sail on caustic seas.
Stray filaments glowing long after the switch is cast downward,
lungs terrified of how they will lie to sense, a weary glance.
Yet, once you learn of the truth, you may find that freedom rides swift
on a cool breeze of reverie. Pink roses flutter open,
breathing in the saccharine of feminine, mirrors cracking
from the weight of prideful, ephemeral fists, light shining bright
behind your hands and bringing them to your chest, a faint refrain:
“I was fifteen and calling.”
PS- brownie points to anyone who caught the Tegan & Sara reference at the end of this poem. They have been a huge part of my life and influence for the last decade and have become even more so in the last year. “Nineteen” directly influenced the vibe of this song and I felt it was important to pay homage to these incredible artists.)