Mental Health Inspired Poetry | The Laurima Project

Poetry

Warning: Some of the poems deal with potentially triggering subjects

'Hope' is the first poem I ever wrote. I never intended to start writing poetry, it just sort of happened, when I was in the midst of my first round of therapy. I found it strangely comforting to be able to express the pain in this way.

Hope

Stuck n a prison of torture:

A cry for help but no-one comes.

Why can't they hear my cries of pain and sorrow?

"Please help me!"

I can see the way out but cannot reach it;

A tiny sliver of light, taunting me.

I try this way and that way

And every time I almost make it...

Then the exhaustion and despair weigh me down,

And chain me back to my prison.

There are voices around me, faces too,

But no-one hears my cries of pain:

"Please help me!"

Help yourself, cope alone,

Left to lie on cold hard stone.

Friends and family come nearby,

But none can reach me, none have tried.

Are they scared of what they see?

Can't they understand the pain?

Why won't you help me, love me?

Break down the walls to hold me?

Love me and help me to heal.

Please...

Please?

The darkest place, the loneliest home.

The guilt for what I should be feeling.

Beautiful faces looking at me.

But still feeling numb and empty.

I love you dearly; I'm sorry if I've let you down,

But the chains in this prison have bound me tight.

I wish my heart could feel happiness,

I cannot see the light, and life is fading from me.

To all the souls who walk past,

And do not understand my cries of pain:

I pray that you do not enter this prison,

This lonely place of despair and shame.

Let the suffering ease day by day,

There has to be a better way than this.

Why are we here on Earth, to feel this sorrow?

Live in this moment now, it's all we have - but how...HOW?

And once more, I retreat into the gloom,

Get my strength back bit by bit.

And then I try again...

Something in the corner,

Part of me, yet strangely not.

The companion in my prison, that gets me to each new day,

And keeps me grinding on and on.

My trusted friend, my saviour,

My guiding light.

A friend called HOPE.

It's all I've got.

Written 29th August 2013

This poem came about during one of the worst years of my life, when my NHS therapy had ended and I was far from being 'fixed'. I struggled all year, trying to find the right support to continue my recovery.

Need

A stone within, the weight bearing down.

Oh to be free, from the tortures within.

Dreaming of an enveloping wave,

So soft and warm and safe.

Hold this broken soul;

Let the hurt spill forth without restraint.

Be not afraid of the anger, rage, tears and sorrow.

Accept them and welcome them without revulsion or awkwardness.

The need to heal from griefs unknown;

Stuck in this place until such time.

Compassion holds the key, with brothers Time and Patience,

Steadying the mind and living each day, one tentative bite at a time.

A safe space without judgement.

A hundred ranting words to release, as lions from a cage, a bull from it's prison stable.

Let them rampage on in places free, without harming others,

Until they weary and yield to the new space found within.

And what then? Leave them to fend for themselves? I think not.

Be there as a guiding hand; not to take control or instruct,

But to scaffold gently as they make their way towards discovering a new way of life,

Free from the bars and chains which bound them tight.

Consistency is king.

Written 17th December 2014

'Shame' is a more recent poem which I wrote after a particularly difficult therapy session, where things did not go well and I reverted back to a feeling of childhood shame!

SHAME

Today I became SHAME.

It enveloped me so completely that I could not breathe.

It took over my whole body;

Every cell was infected with SHAME.

There was no me;

No life, no self.

Only insidious self-loathing and disgust.

I was toxic and flooded with SHAME.

No end and no beginning.

No telling which parts were me and which were SHAME.

Too tangled up together,

So tight we could hardly breathe.

A child, standing red-faced,

Slapped and in disgrace.

Trying not to cry,

Despite humiliation and SHAME.

Putting on a brave face,

Even though they all know.

Trying to keep up the facade:

'I'm fine, it doesn't bother me'.

Whilst dying inside and longing to escape.

A safe place in my head,

Away from prying eyes.

A place to hide my SHAME.

Silently crying, holding him close -

The only one who understands.

The only one to confide in.

'The only one who likes me'.

As I hold him and cry, I am child again:

Scared, afraid, alone, no trust.

Walls coming up,

An iron fortress around my heart.

Inside: a withering, terrified child.

Sickness, heart pounding, legs turned to jelly.

Forgetting to breathe, I could be back there now.

So this is trauma?

Shame turns to TERROR, rigid with fear.

Pity the child, I cannot reach her.

'I can't trust, I can't trust' she cries.

And I become her once again.

She wants her momma,

Needs her desperately.

Yet she is not safe?

Confusion and chaos take over again.

Soothing and calm,

Or harsh and shaming?

I don't know how to be

To make things okay.

'There is no okay.'

'There is no-one, only me'.

And she cries once more into her pillow,

Until morning comes to take her fear away.

Written 27th October 2017

For more poems, click on the links below:

Mornings

Therapy

Her