A Poem: On living with bi-polar affective disorder

Lunar Cycle. Lunatic.


Rapid cycling.
A tidal phenomenon.
A physiological imperative.
Broken bio-chemistry.
Might as well be pulled by the moon.
Lunar cycle. Lunatic.

Here it comes, that tide of despair,
pulled to my shore,
the waves, pounding.
Worthless. Hopeless.
Nothing. Nothing to live for.

Love does not ameliorate.
Just sit through it.
Try not to act.
Don't act on the impulse that says.
"Die".

No thought preceded it.
Nothing can be done.

The tide is a natural phenomenon.
A moon's pull on the ocean of hopelessness.

Then, on the wane, again.
Irritated at the sound of the bird's singing.
Or, grimacing at the comment of love expressed
by one who does, love me.
As the tide turns,
the wet sand, the underbelly of the ocean exposed
~ one's nerves scream ~
Leave me alone. Alone. Alone.

I am so, Alone.
My ship rocks on the
waves of despair once more.
A ghost ship.
Alone on an ocean swelling.
Buffetted about.
Sails tattered.
The perfect storm.

Then,
Relief and optimism stand on the shore.
Beckoning,
Come home, come home...
They call me in.
Safety in this cove.

Oh, a cove of relief.
I can be calm and centred.
For a while. Whole,
Loving the bird's song.
Being. Loving. Breathing.

The tide is a natural phenomenon.
A moon's pull on the ocean of hope.

There is so little free will in the
tyranny of physiological changes.

Lunar Cycles. Tide turns. Energy leaps.
Oh! how shiny and wonderful this idea.
Better than any idea before.
Must act on this. NOW.
I can save the world.
If only they would listen,
Listen! Hark, the Herald Angel sings.
I Am the Herald Angel.
Listen! Be the change.
Save The planet, she needs us now.
Whatever, the message is today.
Do it! For the Love of love.
Harken to me, because I know.
I have two-sights seeing.
Lunacy, but truth nonetheless.

Focused and furious to get 'it' done.
No sleep, keep working.
Sell the idea, swell the movement.
Done well, high functioning.
Successful, for a little while.

Oh, no...
I can feel the drag of the tide at my heels
already, sucking at my success.

Then, on the wane, again.
Irritated at even the sound of the bird's singing.
Rapid cycling. Pain roars.
A tidal phenomenon.
A physiological imperative.

Broken bio-chemistry.
Might as well be pulled by the moon.
Lunar cycle. Lunatic.
_________________________

~ By Moon Gal ~ Living with Bi Polar ~

Image attribution: bonbaden [dot] info