Today I participated in a NAMI Conference for Washtenaw County, and this seems appropriate to pass the publishing gate. Not all who suffer get this bad, but sometimes this is the only way to get out of the fog. A quick shout out to all those that I got to talk to there. I especially enjoyed hearing the fellow play a bit of Bach.
Lesson for the day from all those I got to hear:
Those of us with mental mazes are not social problems,
we are social pioneers and can be mentally amazing. But I digress.
Dedicated to those who suffer from chronic mental illness.
As winter comes
and days are shorter, colder, and less friendly,
I huddle up, hugging blankets,
hoping to love, and be loved in return.
And when nothing happens but the dull passage of time,
I see a choice:
to hide forever digging deeper into darkness
or to rage against it all.
I have already hidden,
. . . but if I were to rage, would I rage against the walls?
or would I rage until I slid beneath in cowers?
or would I rage against the Living God?
or would I rage against some foe so tangible to me,
invisible to you?
The walls would yield till I fell cold.
My energy must not be wasted, for there is too little.
My rage must not be spent in ways as foolish as despair.
The Living God has long withstood my rage,
and all my hammering is empty,
looking so much like rebellion
that I have come to despise myself,
yet I shall see the face of God.
So if I raged against the foe who hides
and preys on weaker souls,
would "they" call me crazy?
Would I give up too soon, too short of victory?
Would I be crowned a hero for the day?
They have already called me crazy.
Awakening to victory against the enemy is worth
a thousand yesterdays of failure.
I have no choice but to rage in a hidden, friend-filled place
my love exploding gladly in the face of fear.
till God rewards with rich, undying, open grace.