To the (very) thoughtful stranger who dropped this in my inbox at 5:43 pm this evening, I thank you. ......................................................................................................................... Mental health, poem by Yrsa Daley-Ward If you are walking down a aisle with a dim florescent hue by the tinned fish and canned beans strip lighting above, cracked tiles beneath with the realisation that most things are futile and get the sudden urge to end it all Don’t stop. Call a friend. Call your mother if you have one and if you can stand her listen to her talk about the price of canned fish and tinned beans Call the speaking clock. Know that whatever time it says is the time that everything has to change. Leave the damn aisle. Don’t go anyway where they sell sweets, chips, booze, fast love or lottery tickets See that just outside there are people lined streets that are emptier than your insides, skies darker than your own Look for yourself, because it never helps to hear from anyone else. If you are one of those, running around town like mad people People who jump from tall buildings Buildings with glass fronts and not enough air If you are failing to fix a broken story If you have been cooped up for far too long in a very high tower in a dangerously low state plenty of TV channels and TV dinners. Plenty of biscuits, chocolate desserts, cake and plenty of wine but no love for miles and miles If you did not get up for work today If it has been afternoon for hours And the silence is keeping you awake. If you only remember how to draw your breath in and out like waves of thick tar cooling If you are wishing it later, pulling the sun down with your prayers, leave the damn bed. Wash the damn walls. Crack open a window even in the rain, even in the snow. Listen to the church bells outside. Know that however many times they chime is half the number of changes you have to make. Stop trying to die. Serve your time here, do your time. Clean out the fridge. Throw away the soya milk. Soya milk is made from children’s tears. Put flowers on the table. Stand them in a measuring jug. Chop raw vegetables if you have them. Know that if you are hungry for something but you cant think what then you are more often than not only love thirsty, only bored. When the blood in your body is weary to flow. When your bones are heavy and hollow if you have made it past thirty celebrate, and if you haven’t yet, rejoice. Know that there is a time on its way when the dirt settles and the patterns form a picture. If you dream of the city but you live in the country, Milk the damn cows. Sell the damn sheep. Know that they will wishing you well, posing for pictures on milk cartons or running over lush hills to be counted at the beginning of someone’s else’s dream See, they never held you back It was you, only you.
Posted on: Thu, 08 Jan 2015 00:38:09 +0000