Momentarily Sane (a poem)

My lover chisels away rough edges
Around the center of my heart
But sharpness still remains

I cannot contain darkness sometimes
Lying on concrete in the cold dawn
There’s a man standing above me
I reach for the rosary he carries

He offers salvation in a kind way
Not like the charismatic preachers
I used to know in traveling days
He tells me, softly, that Jesus
Turns his back on no one, including
Pimps and hustlers with their
Scarred faces and crooked teeth

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Working with Depression

It’s relatively easy for me to fall into a depressed mood. It’s also something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember. What I’m coming to realize, though, is looking at depression as an enemy that must be fought only puts me deeper in the hole.

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