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I have always tried to use my poetry to requalify the negatives around me and turn them into positives. This never came
more in need than when, in 2002, my beautiful, certified genius and talented violinist daughter fell into a terrible clinical
depression that led her to an attempt to take her own life at the tender age of thirteen. Thirteen years old and she wanted
to die. It was the single most horrifying moment of my life, and I assure you, I've had more than my fair share of those.
Fortunately, she was spectacularly unsuccessful. She has since entered therapy and is emerging from the darkness. It hasn't
always been easy; there have been many challenges, steps forward and back, but, she is a worthy and an incredibly tenacious
fighter. She astounds me each and every single day. Because of this, much of my recent work, and, with this poem, 'Openings',
in particular, deals with the subject of depression from a mother's perspective of loving a child through this terrible experience.
Support, in the form of hope, faith and love... most of all...
will see you through any storm.
~MKL~
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Openings
(four poems for my daughter, battling depression)
I
Twilight, and the petals of wild plum
spiral gently downward,
making pale shadow-reflections
on storm puddles. Fragile blossoms
fall through your open fingers...
sail away like small boats
set out on an epic journey
across oceans.
This image moves me, lingering
at the distant edges of your world...
Dark water returns your eyes
and my spirit, though submerged, ripples
softly at the surface.
II
I know myself in your heart,
but clouded by tempest days,
my face is sometimes a pale, distant light.
What is distance except the space that exists
between where you are
and where I am?
When your thighs sink below your own horizon
and your mouth opens to the starless sky,
I feel substratums quake--
our joinings shake and come undone.
Sonant misery ebbs and flows
as despair breaks against your body.
To stand sentinel and wait...
tears at my soul.
Still,
you reach out across oceans
and what lies between us
rumbles like thunder.
III
This morning, the dove’s call
was urgent, beseeching.
I saw you listen and nod your head,
deep in thought beneath oppressive clouds,
wanting release. You waited,
buffeted by wind and entwined in plumeria,
unmindful of the prospect of pelting rain;
you welcomed thunder on the horizon.
So alone in this open cup of earth,
self and sky--
you let go...
and I, a needful Atlas,
wrapped you in my arms
and shouldered your pain.
IV
There is something that lies small and quietly inside us
which opens up like blossoms and rainclouds--
it begs for the recognition of our inner strength,
for the resurrection of hope, faith
and love--
most of all, love...
We learn to let our fingers gratefully accept
the cup that flows over with tears,
eager for the cleansing of spirit
that comes in the wake
of even the cruellest storm.
© MKL
The Candle (Oh, Beautiful Child)
Oh, beautiful child,
how you despise the way light fades
with the end of 'just another day',
and pace the floors of your darkening house,
searching for answers through reflective eyes.
Admiring the persistence of keeping stars,
you count them, one by one--
consider their ethereal quality of light,
comparing them to dreams you fear are lost.
With questioning fingers, you feel
through your pervasive pain for openings
that do not cut-- that do not let blood flow
out and away, anguished words from mouths
that speak what you cannot.
In the vastness of your empty space,
you place a single candle
(your own guiding star)
lit to beat back the palpable fear--
and then cry out with a soaring voice
that you will no longer live traced
to the oppressive weight,
nor embrace this nightmare
that voraciously eats away
at your fragile hope...
As love surrounds
and lends you strength,
you learn to sing your soul out loud;
vibrations will resonate from deep within
to do battle with the damning grasp
of that hated, hungry beast...
Steadfast, your small flame grows
to bravely overcome the ebbing dark!
Casting your beautiful Light into the world
you smile,
and create the dawn.
© MKL
Opus For Seren, Emerging
Raging white swells,
with fragments of memory
lost in soft jade,
pulled us to the edge
of this elder place,
our hair wild with rain and sea salt.
There, a misplaced crow, picking
among the bones
of the beached caught your eager eye
and I felt your kinship with it,
as we stood, caressed,
in the arms of sea oats.
A year like cutting glass,
of broken shells,
washed away
in the opus of unruly surf
as you set adrift pieces of dreams
along the spine of the waves,
and the wind,
captured and gentled by your growing smile
joined in a symphony
from deep to frothy foam.
Rapture filled your breast and your laughter
caused the universe to tremble
and sigh. Amidst the rain,
with awed voice
you whispered,
"Ohhh, the world is so musical..."
And I'll know those words to be the best thing
I will hear, ever.
©2004MKL
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