Open Letter

An open letter poem written to myself, and to anyone else that might be struggling with depression

(part 1)
you tried to sell yourself short today. 
it was all that i could do to stop you. 
I wanted to, believe me, but you will always try. 
I cannot convince you that life isn't a song anymore. 
That every moment isn't a note played in 
conscious orders
attempts to bring together beauty that not everyone will see or understand or think but you know. 
How could I? 
You told me you couldn't be the one to have tied your own wrists together behind your back 
but 
you were alone when i found you and 
you had strands of rough rope dug into your fingernails and 
your palms were rough 
and your neck was sweaty 
and the guilt in your eyes could be seen from a mile away and 
you said "How could I have done this? No one can do this to themselves."
But I screamed "you are trying to sell yourself short, you are trying!"

(part 2) 
It was dark before dawn 
It wasn't the darkest, no 
it was just dark, it was dark like every other dark 
like how souls are dark 
or space is dark 
or shadows are dark
and you observed the sky waiting for change
waiting for unknown forces to pick you up off your feet and deposit you into vast and deep space 
and you would be blinded by so much dark that you could only pray you would pass through a star
light and gas and completely dead and probably poison and fire hot but who knows? 
Who has ever had the chance to breathe in a star? 
I look at you 
you have no regard for me at all.

(part 3) 
I remember this time that we were superiorly close. 
I could count the seconds between breaths like i did when my mother lay dying on the floor
it has always been an insecurity of mine, don't you remember? 
our limbs were intertwined 
our spines pressed against the same wall of mattress
the lights were dim and we had s****y earbuds plugged into our ears and I thought that I finally understood something about you 
you held on so tightly to the hunk of metal that I thought I felt blood dripping through your fingers or something

(part 4) 
They beat the s**t out of you. 
You took every aching punch with a stoic expression 
and refused to redeem your malice or your revenge 
I remember the bulls you took by horns and the breaths you took before icy river plunges but 
you stood there and let every word slam into your broken nose 
They hurt you and you stood waiting for them to stop 
Because back then, being hit so many times by the people you loved 
even with their rope around your neck, 
you thought that by some miracle the same hands would bring you ice and band aids and kisses just like a mother 
you thought they would nurse the swelling and drain the pressure,
but don't you know? 
Those heavy shoulders don't know the meaning of the word selfless and so they would never shoulder all the hurt you carried 
And you gave credit to them when it was me who picked your dusty heart off the floor time and time again and told you that with a little polishing, it could be like new 
and I made you like new but just when I had hope for you,
you trusted the same people, 
and so they beat the s**t out of you.

(part 5)
I take a breath. This was a lot to tell you.

(part 6) 
I hope you took in the words I gave you
And the bed I let you and the room I thrust you in and I hope you took them to heart 
And while you rested your perspective of yourself and listened, I just hoped that every grain of salt you swallowed when I spoke went down like syrup and that you recoiled at my anger 
And when you return to the wars you fight, 
against me, and against the world, and against the past and present and future 
You remember all the love that filled your heart as a child when you looked in the mirror,
and the ten thousand people that thought you were good at something, 
and the way that every teacher you ever had thought there was something special about you, 
That you unbind the rope around your wrists 
That you breathe in stars 
That you turn the music coming from your s****y earbuds all the way up 
And that you hit back, goddamn, please just hit back! 
Because you are worth it, the moon and the sun, 
real love, warm days, sandy beaches,
trips to alum and swimming holes and fishing
to run and never trip and to have dry eyes and drunken nights full of friends and laughter 
to visit countries and museums and see frescoes and dinosaur bones 
to read books and touch their beautiful spines 
to have your own beautiful spine caressed, 
to go and go and go and live
go out and be doing 
go experience the universe alright? Because you deserve it. 
And I will always be there with you
Because I am the voice in the back of your throat, 
reminding you 
Not to sell yourself short.

-R. Young

Reviews

[Cry Mort]

The imagery is beautiful and the way you string together words is fascinating and skillful. I could feel this. This poem actually touched me and I'm amazed.