More Poetry for the Sad Mind

I wrote the first poem when I first became ill in 1975 or thereabouts, and the second only recently. You see, it took me about 37 years to become well. Now I'm starting all over again but in the future not the past. It's a new beginning and anyone can have a new beginning every day, but not everyone is as lucky as those of us who are the third of SZ who respond to treatment and become well. There are others who do not and I don't want to downplay their anguish and the impossibility perhaps of becoming more than they can become, as it may not be possible for them. Humbly I say, let's start over, and the families and friends of those who suffer, whether it be from depression, bipolar, SZ, anxiety disorder, OCD or brain damage, realize that their loved ones are not the person they once were and appear not to respond. It's important not to over protect our loved ones, but to let them know we're there to listen and help as far as we can if they ask us or need us. Somewhere in our brains there's a great collective recognition of love.

The Metal Foot

Take me not from gritty noon and silver shores, of innocence a footprint

In the sand.

For I follow, crippled, and my leg is bound with wire.

It sings, in agony, it blazes

In the sun.

For I follow, to the metal edge of day.

I see others, past the breakers,

And they seem to ride the wind

They come foaming from the ocean

But are gone before I turn.

(My foot is cramped and tender

But their song is not of pain).

Leave me to the brine and little boat; I will follow with my eyes

Though my heart is like an arrow

As you go.

For though I hobble, crippled, to the burning rim of Time

It would still be only half my journey done.

Take me not, therefore, from innocence (a footprint

In the sand)

For I follow, crippled, and my leg is bound with wire.

It sings, in agony, it blazes

To the metal edge of day.

The Metal Foot #2

The wire was twisted metal
But my leg has healed its sore
Like a boot of steel and plaster
Till my feet can touch the floor.

And the wind is running with me
While the scent of flowers play
With my friends who ride the breakers
With our faces bright with spray.

For this best of running coolness
And this newness angels put
I am flying I am singing
Through the metal cloven foot.

For my face is bright and yearning
And my legs are strong and brown

I run PAST those ghostly lovers,
High where the surf has blown.