Poetry Showcase: Linda M. Crate (March 2023)

photo from pixabay (Pheladii)

someone to hear me

i have been alone in crowded rooms,
faked a smile so well no one knew
the sadness that oozed in my veins;
people say that they'd notice their friends
depression don't understand that depression
isn't always cutting wrists, sobbing, or 
the inability to shower—

sometimes it's burying your feelings down so
as not to be a burden to anyone else,
sometimes it's needing constant reassurance
that you're loved because even if you should
know sometimes you just can't;

it is being a good swimmer yet still drowning
because the emotions are too strong to fight off—

with all due respect you don't notice all the
little signs,
i know because once i thought of how pretty it
would be to view the sky from the bottom of a creek
after i jumped off a bridge and no one even knew;

love your loved ones as often as you can and 
over use "i love you" and be there and sometimes
just listen and hear them, because sometimes i don't
need a solution; i just need someone to hear me.

so very bitter

my co-worker and i were 
talking about depression
last night,
and i was telling her how annoyed
i was that some people think suicide victims
are selfish and how that made me angry
because it's not like they're doing
it for attention;
they're in pain and they cannot feel the
love that surrounds them from everyone who
cares for them 
and she agreed with me—

she shared something intensely personal
with me,
and it made me sad;

because so often people say they would notice
if their friends needed help—

but no one seems to notice the little things,
and it is often in whispers and small little noises
that depression speaks;

it is never one thing but a bunch of little things
adding up until the pressure is too much 
to take—

i have been a lot better lately,
and i am grateful because i do love living but
sometimes the hard days are intensely
hard and so very bitter.

more harm than good

my uncle taking his own life made me
realize that i didn't really want to die,
just wanted to carve out all of the negative
things that brought me down;
i just wanted to stop being dragged down by
the dregs of emotions too heavy for me to
carry alone—
because no one really wants to hear that
you're struggling when they ask how you are,
they want you to put on a smile and say that
you're fine even when you aren't;
life can be so difficult and so hard 
i don't know why we should require one another
to wear masks—
emotions aren't weakness,
and i refuse to believe that anyone who wants
the best for me would want me to pretend;
so if i am crying or angry or wounded 
please don't be angry at the display of emotions
because we should all be able to feel everything we 
need to—
bottling everything in always did me more 
harm than good.


i am proud of anyone
who has survived
the darkness
of their own minds

because i know it isn't easy,
and the lies told are easy
to believe in your weakest moments;

sometimes my only reason for survial
was spite so find whatever works
for you and keep going because i promise
you will find magic and beautiful things

survive for all of the sunsets and sunrises,
your favorite meal, your dog or your cat
or pet lizard, survive for the moon dancing
above the creek at night casting a long and 
silver shadow of hope, survive for all the future
yous that you have yet to meet;

because you haven't met all the people who will
love you and all the people that are your tribe—

so if you can do nothing else: survive.

it's so easy not to be the darkness

bullying was the reason
that i wanted to end my life,
i began to believe their 

i felt worthless and like a burden
to everyone i loved because of them—

& the one time i went to an adult
for help at school,
i was told if i weren't so weird then i
wouldn't be bullied;

maybe if bullying weren't something
considered acceptable in society then 
mental health issues might be a little better—

it costs nothing to give someone 
compassion or kindness,

but everyone is so willing to tear
someone down because of their appearance
or their taste in music or because they
watch anime or because of their hobbies;

in the grand scheme of things none of it matters
because all of our lives are important and touch others—

but depression is a knife of all the unkind
things ever said to you on a repeating loop
until you just want the darkness to stop,
and it's so easy not to be the darkness;

be the light that someone clings to instead.

Bio: Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer. Her works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of ten poetry chapbooks, the latest being: Hecate's Child (Alien Buddha Publishing, November 2021). She's also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). She has three micro-poetry collections out:  Heaven Instead (Origami Poems Project, May 2018), moon mother (Origami Poems Project, March 2020.), and & so i believe (Origami Poems Project, April 2021). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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