|Mary's beloved Mystic|
The Struggle at the End of Joy
China is prettier
when shattered pieces
assemble into something new,
when the morning sun
glints off these colorful creations
and I feel reborn -
that is until afternoon unquiets my mind
and I try outrunning my shadow,
horse and I gallop, hair flying,
until wind rips the scream from my lips,
shatters the mosaic inside my head,
and the only voice I hear is mine.
by Margaret Bednar, January 18, 2015
This poem is not about me. A wonderfully intelligent, artistically talented woman ended her life a few days ago. Mary suffered with bi-polar / manic-depression. Mystic gave her great joy and she wrote about her horse on her blog "Galloping Mind" Following is an article that ran in the O'Henry Magazine entitled "Gloriously Imperfect" A part of her life story and the images of her uniquely beautiful house begin on page 56.
My poem is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - In other words". This sliver of a depressing poem is what my mind keeps going to - the end of joy - the despair she felt these last few months. But she WAS so much more.
If only she had listened to and believed the voices of others.