Inward Turmoil

Is there someone who has not experienced turbulence?  In an airplane, our minds no longer believes whole heartedly that it is safe to be 30,000 feet in the air.  The moment we step into an airplane, the cozy and warm cabin tricks us into thinking it's fine to fly higher than even some birds.

The moment the plane shakes, it is as if our brains get rattled out of its slumber.  We start to look around, take in a deep breath or two, and then automatically looks outside the windows.  Funny how even though we don't really believe we'll be in imminent danger, we know something of science is at work.  This science is a little miracle many of us cannot explain in great detail.

Now, take a moment to consider the kind of turbulence we feel in the pit of our stomach.  The kind that only we can feel acutely, individually and fitfully.  There is no way to get at it with our bare hands.  The frown between our eyebrows begins to show.  We start to sink lower and lower, deeper and deeper into darkness.  A battle within us ensues.



So many times, I've felt the tug and pull of inner wrestling.  Silence makes the battle cries too loud to think clearly and peacefully.  Staring directly into it is like a hundred thousand drummers marching in circles around us.  Our screams go unheard and our tears drown us.  Where is help?

No many how many times I've been there, I have never found the way of escape.  Escape comes when it comes.  The inward suffering dissipates just as quickly and suddently as it appeared.  What have I learned?

Hang on!

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Something Lost...

© Amar Qamar

I had it once, now it’s gone
Like a knot it’s been undone
Was once so tight, now so slack
Happy times I wish I could have back
I sit a home, and feel so lonely
It’ll be great if that was all, if only…
Zombie on the outside, the living dead
But so many questions floating around my head
Confusions rains down, it pours
Pandora’s Box, I’ve opened the doors
No sign of anyone who can help
No sense of feelings or of myself
Where I can find the answers
Who am I? What am I?
Am I a dream? Or am I the dreamer?
Am I a thought? Or a complex computer,
How do my thoughts start? What makes them end?
What makes me do this? What makes me do that?
I know I overanalyze, I can’t help it
Thinking and gazing into space, as I sit
Why can’t I accept the wisdom of those around
Not letting myself accept the answers I’ve found
I want to free myself from my mind
And not just to pretend
Everything’s okay everything’s fine
I want to be NORMAL… When it’s going to end….

Source: Depression and Anxiety, Mental Illness Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/depression-and-anxiety#ixzz261Cn1b7e
www.FamilyFriendPoems.com