Never Mind

"I'm all mind"

she said, searching within me

"All mind, that's all there is"

She reminded me of Princess Diana,

for all she crashed,

but nobody ever sent her flowers.

And nobody ever sent her flowers,

but what use are flowers?

When the senses become arbitrary

and the body

can only find comfort in yesterday's sheets.

And we want to touch,

but we remain in separate rooms

wrapped up in yesterday's sheets.

All mind,

oh...

...never mind.

As you read this I am currently taking time off work due to depression. It's been a long, hard struggle, but I'm finally beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel. I wrote this poem "never mind" some years ago, but it seems even more relevant today than it did then.

I remember sitting with a young woman in hospital, she was obviously very bright and talented, but on that day she just gazed past me, seemingly unaware of my presence or of the world around her. It was as if we were in separate rooms, not by choice, but we were just not able to pass through the doorway to meet with one another; she was experiencing the sort of depression which blanks out everything but the inner consciousness, and although I could not read her mind I had some idea of the isolation which she was experiencing.

Depression is sometimes mistaken for "being a bit stressed" or "feeling a bit down" , and sometimes those who suffer from this very serious illness are not taken seriously, or else people just don't understand, so they tell you to "cheer up" or to "pull yourself together" ; none of this helps.

We sat together for a long time, each of us silent; engrossed in our own thoughts. Then slowly, gradually, she seemed to pass through the door, and find a seat next to mine. We became aware of a third presence; one who shares our isolation and pain, one who dies, as we die, time and time again. We sat together in our lonely room, and found communion.