MIM Poetry - Theresa Dolata

Worthless to Them

Worthless to them,
No longer useful

Thought the suicidal woman; what have I got to offer
Nobody wants to hear my story;
Even my priest does not come to my aide.
What is the education that they lack?
I try to inform them but it is to late.
Oh, how hard it is when my illness has overtaken me.
I try; I attempt; I give it my ultimate best to convey
That this will be my last day.
Please God, Oh, please God save me today.

Author’s Note: The first place that a person who suffers from mental illness goes to is their church and their priest for guidance. But the fact is that most people of the cloth are not trained to deal with these situations. Basic knowledge and compassion can help save lives.

Untitled

May the rays of Sun Beam down
Upon the Faces of those you suffer from Mental illness.
Oh, Great River, cleanse their down-trodden spirits.
Nurture them, Mother Earth as you rebirth their souls.

That if the spirit like to hide
Then why, oh why does it grow inside?
The spirit is hiding and yet inviting.
Immense and intense are the internal flames.
Open the door and tame the rage,
Let the Spirit of God set them free.

The River Runs

The river runs through my veins,

Oxygenating my body,
Rebirthing my soul.
I work. I work. To regain my strength
From the mental illness
That once consumed me.
It overtook and trampled me
Like the Irish dancers.
It stomped hard and quick.

But the River freed my soul.
I am free.

My soul, my mind has been reborn.

I am no longer the sufferer;
I am no longer just surviving;
I am the living.
I am living the vigilant life.

The River runs through my veins,

Oxygenating my body,
Rebirthing my soul.
I embrace the warm rush of the Water,
It flows and flows
Over my being.

The River calls me to it;
Earth grounds me;
Nature embraces me

With its gentle breeze.

I am one with the world and the heavens.
I jump into the great waterfall
With the greatest leap of faith.

Author’s Note: This poem is not about committing suicide. It is about how one works hard to come from under the current and be able to let their spirit be free. Even though we have a mental illness does not mean it has to have us. The River (God) has called us to take the journey of life and to be reborn. “I jump into the great waterfall with the greatest leap of faith.” I let God’s arms carry me through all of life’s currents. That leap of faith is into God’s every loving arms.

The Golden Thread

The thin, yet strong, golden threads of my pendulum
Totes an enormous burden
My pendulum swings

From side to side,
From one extreme to another,
One extreme to another.
What contains this excessive extremism that leads to death?

It is the container that God had enclosed within me
My boundaries have boundaries,

Boundaries above,
Boundaries below,
My boundaries encase each wall of my pendulum

It swings from side to side,

Side to side,
One extreme to another,
One extreme to another,
It totes an enormous burden.

My illness enveloped me in this confining space.
I desire to escape,

But the cost is too much;
It is one extreme or the other.
Never am I able to center my pendulum peacefully.

I no longer have the pit of death to let go and drop into;
I have to keep fighting,

Battling this illness, this curse
My thoughts, my actions, my reaction,
In essence myself.
Because I cease to have the pit of death to fall into

I suffer;
I survive;
I suffer surviving;
I survive suffering.

My boundaries have taken away the easy way out

By filling the pit of death
With the rock solid cement of God

Author’s Note: I suffer from Bi-Polar disorder. This poem reflects what it is like having bi-polar disorder. That struggle is difficult. A lot of times it leads to suicidal thoughts, but you have to keep fighting and doing your part to get well and then “the pit of death is taken away from you.” All there is now is hope for the future. That option is faded away and you can step off the cement that once was a cavern of despair and walk the walk of recovery and future of mental health.