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Once, There Were Trees.: A Poem

I write a lot about what is lost and gained in my being and my life by taking anti-psychotic, anti-depressant, and anti-anxiety medications, and this poem is no different. The biggest, life-changing things I've grasped hold of with the help of these medications are the ability to have stable, healthy relationships and the ability to survive, and I don't think I'd trade either of those things for the world (see my poem, Ten Hurricanes). Without further ado, "Once, There Were Trees."

Once, There Were Trees.

*mic sounds* *deep voice in audience clears throat* 

Is it really worth trading my creativity

For the ability to leave the house?

My passion

For the ability to hold a “normal” conversation?

My intellect and the way my brain makes connections that no one else can see

For a lack of suicidality?

What if I could fall into the nebulous violence of a forming star?

What if I could see the spark that rebirths wood frogs every Spring?

What if I could be myself again, even for a microsecond, a flash?

But I’m walking through quicksand.

My eyes are all squinty.

The staff say “Thank God” when doctors increase my meds

And I’m here just searching for a way to survive a barren landscape

But I remember

That once there were trees.

 

I still consider this poem to be a rough draft. Edits may be made to this blog, with notations in the comments or at the bottom to reflect that. Constructive criticism and any kind of feedback is welcome! 

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