This poem was written for someone I love who struggles with bipolar disorder. Though I have suffered through depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, I can never truly understand her pain. I want to help but I am at a loss as to what to do.
I wanted to share this here so those who suffer from mental illness might know how your suffering breaks the hearts of those who love you but don’t know what to do.
A Broken Heart of Love
This searing pain in my heart I wish it would go away I pray for it to leave me But it is love I would be hollow without it
I watch you drowning in a sea of turmoil and fear I reach out my hand, the one connected to my broken heart “It’s okay, the sailing’s fine,” you say
I walk away, thinking perhaps my eyes deceive me and you are not drowning, or else why would you say otherwise? I know you would not lie
But still this pain deep down inside my aching heart reminds me that you are not fine, the sea is not calm
The storm rages but I cannot rescue you You cannot see my hand reaching through the darkness beckoning you to dry land
I believe that this poem is relevant to all who struggle to keep depression at bay. It was originally posted at my blog, Linda Kruschke’s Blog.
There are people in this world who seem to always be upbeat and to think positively about things. Darkness seems far from them. But for some of us, that is not the case, and darkness hover ever closer. The armor of God holds for us the essential weapons of Light as the darkness hovers ever closer to our doors.
Darkness hovers at the door eye out for an entrance an opening in my armor a reason to steal my joy
The joy of the Lord is my strength and my armor the Light that keeps darkness at bay
Despair lurks in the shadows waiting for an opportunity to pull me back into darkness with hopes of keeping me evermore
Vigilance is crucial I never can forget Darkness desires to consume me and take my joy away
I must stand firm in the armor of my Lord His belt of truth reminding me He is my Light
Flaming arrows of sorrow guilt, shame, and despair fly from the darkness my heart and soul their target
With the shield of faith darkness is thwarted unless I grow careless even for a moment
I grow weary and tired pain overwhelms me My shield falls to the ground darkness overcomes
Yet my Savior never forsakes this despair will not last Though I am in darkness I will pray in the Spirit
Light returns to my soul I set my armor to the ready once again standing vigilant as darkness hovers at my door
“The night is far spent; the day is at hand. Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light.”
Healing doesn’t happen all at once. Sexual trauma runs too deep, is much too complex for simple remedies.
We have no Star Trek sickbay or magic tricorder to bind up the wounds, erase the battle scars.
And would we want to if we could? Would we walk away, pretend it never happened, we were never assaulted violated… hated… berated… made to feel shame and doubt?
Could we ignore the very truth of what we know was wrong… evil… the vilest of all? Could we simply walk away and cease to bear witness for those who come after? Or maybe for those violated before our own innocence was vanquished but are yet to heal at all?
If we could be healed completely in an instant, in the blink of a selfish, knowing eye…
But to do so meant leaving our sisters, our friends, our daughters, even strangers, without the hope of their presence?
Could we? Should we?
Because to heal 100 percent I think is to forget every ounce, every moment, of the pain and struggle.
And to forget is to lose compassion. So perhaps it is worth the ups and downs of scars that appear healed but sometimes, more often than we’d like, bleed tears of understanding helping others feel not so alone.
Often I pray for complete healing. For years I prayed to forget. But then I remember that without my wound I am not me.
Without my wound the scarring of my heart and soul, I am powerless.