Finally posting…Sorry, been busy and haven’t really had much desire to write.
In my english class we are currently in the poetry unit and one of the poems this week had to do with depression so I thought I would share it with you guys:
by Gary Miranda,
My sophmore year in high school
we played a lot of basketball together
and once—one game against St. John’s—
I tackled ol’ Moose Farrell at midcourt
because he elbowed, underneath the board,
you, who didn’t believe in anger.
My junior year they took you away
and put you somewhere out of reach,
and no one told me who to tackle then
or even talked about it at all,
because it hurt, yes, and too because
it left a kind of mark, like fingerstains
Later on they let you out of there:
electric shock had cured you, a kind
of magic in your mind, like lightning
but still no one would talk about it,
not even you, and memory under our
noonday silence bleached and disappeared.
This alone survives from all that year:
you in the tub one evening as I shaved
and telling me that I should leave
so you could drown yourself,
your eyes unfixed except on fixtures
and empty, like the drain.”
It is about the poet’s brothwer who had depression. His family sent him away instead of caring about it, kind of like how every just brushes mental health problems under the carpet. The brother falls deeper and deeper into depression to the point of suicide. The title itself is interesting in my opinion because bruises are internal bleeding and depression is an internal ilness for the most part. Anyway my class discussed it and most of there analysis wasn’t terribly off par and ignorant of depression. I obviously didn’t step up and talk about it and my personal experiences with it.