July 26, 2017

Poetry: “Self”

I have loved every version of her.

From milk mustaches wiped
On the backs of fuliginous hands,
To tear-blind Sundays spent
Miching away blistered miseries.

Swimming through melted rivers,
She teetered on the edge of breath.
Lip to lip,
My printed kisses pressed
Into her checkered past,
Fogging glass;
Shooting blanks
To make her last.

I have loved her,
Piece by piece,
And she will not let me

Cover to cover,
I have read her to death.



© Jane Bled 2016-2017


I’m not alone: Depression has become my constant companion. I accept her (though at times, her presence can be unnerving). When the moment is right, I’ll share my story. Hopefully it will resonate with others who have this illness, and/or love people with clinical depression.

Keep going. Like TobyMac says, “Lift your head, it ain’t over yet.” The message of his song “Move” inspires hope, no matter your religion/faith/spirituality.


Be well.