through the depression.
I felt, without a body, something in agony
or maybe a body without a soul, stiff
and too heavy to pull from the bed.
Yes – an obese body, my own flesh and grief,
too heavy for my body to lift. There is
no other way to tell you: I woke up
afraid I was going to live.
There is no other way to explain
how I was overwhelmed
by the most mundane things –
dishes, the shower, breakfast.
I could not be anywhere.
I ran from Saint Louis
across the rolling ground to Colorado,
where I found the mountains
could no longer offer me their comfort,
to my mother’s house in Pennsylvania,
where the red wolves used to hunt and stalk,
From Chicago I crawled back
to my heavy, tired body, to find
that where the soul had been there was
now a hard river stone –
small and cold and flat. Many suggested
a hospital stay, but what could doctors
do for a stone?
I craved a body I could crawl into.
Read the rest of Kait’s posts here.